Stitches
by TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: A few isolated incidents in the long seam of time...
1. Chapter 1: Stitches

Dean silently looked down at the phone in his hand. The screen displayed _Call Ended_ , flashing numbers to indicate the length of time the call had been.

Roman poked his head into Dean's room, shaking his hair out of its tight bun."Hey Dean, they're calling for y-"

Dean interrupted Roman with a shout of " _Fuck_ _ **off!**_ ", cupping his phone in his palm and slamming his hand into the wall over and over. The screen shattered with the first hit and he just kept going, pulverizing it like he had a grudge.

"Jesus Christ Uce." Roman sighed over the off-tempo thumps, "What, the Chinese place doesn't deliver later tonight when we'll actually be hungry?" His brow furrowed when a quiet sniffle escaped his 'brother', the other man hanging his head and slumping against the wall. "Dean? Hey, you okay?"

"I'm good, I'm good." Dean said shakily, but he continued to slide down the wall until he sat on the floor. He opened his hand and carelessly dropped whatever was left of his phone next to him.

"Dean what happened?" Roman asked, grabbing the sleeve of Ambrose's sweatshirt ( _technically Roman's sweatshirt_ Dean reminded himself absently) and hauling him back up. "Your match against Bray is in a minute, Uce. Are you good to fight, because if you're not I..." Roman's words died in his throat when Dean leveled him with an angry look.

"I am _always_ good to fight. I'm fucking ready for this shit, Reigns." he growled, dusting off his hands quickly. "Let's go."

* * *

Bray had him on the defensive for most of the match. Dean could feel the frustration bubbling hot in his chest as he hit the canvas again and again, continuing to get back up and fight even harder.

"You seem distracted tonight, Lunatic." Bray grinned, leaning almost casually against the ropes in his corner.

Dean snarled at him, but all it did was make Bray laugh. "Somethin' funny, Buzzard Breath?" Ambrose snapped.

"How's your lady doing, Crazy?" Bray asked, stroking his beard in mock thought.

Everything in Dean's body came to a momentary halt. "I-" Dean swallowed hard, dimly hearing Roman screaming at him from the sidelines.

" _What are you **doing** , Ambrose?!_"

"What _am_ I doing?" Dean muttered under his breath. "Letting this fucker get in the asylum that's what I'm doing. Christ. Amateur." Raising his voice, he yelled, "Vacate the premises, scumbag!" Ambrose rapped his knuckles on the side of his head. "There's only room for one basket case in here, and he ain't sharing head space!"

"I've got a sneaking suspicion that you're already rentin' out your cranium, am I right?" Bray sneered at the other man, "You're a fucking _mess_ Ambrose, you sloppy sack of shit!"

"Well, flattery will get you everywhere." Dean jibed, making Bray laugh.

"This is why I like you, Headcase. Humor!"

Dean lashed out and caught Bray in a headlock, the other man's jaw snapping shut with a loud ' _clack!_ '. "Now I'd like you to listen real close, understand?" Dean murmured calmly in Bray's ear, watching the way the muscles in his own arm flexed and coiled against Bray's throat. "I'm about to have a hell of a bad night. And you're about to share it with me. So I hope you brought your big boy one-strap overalls, you backwoods _fuck_."

Bray's chuckle was a wheeze against Dean's arm, but it was still there. Dean bristled, releasing the other man and quickly squaring up.

He didn't expect the hysterical cackle that exploded out of Bray.

"Oh, I _see!_ I see it all now!" The bearded man snickered. "It's so clear to me!" He turned his back to Dean, who looked on in bewilderment as Bray sauntered around the edge of the ring.

" _What are you **waiting** for, Dean?!_ " Roman's voice cut through Dean's confusion, and the 'Lunatic Fringe' shook his head, irritated with himself.

 _I can't let what happened earlier get to me. Focus!_

Bray's hand rose and a finger pointed at Reigns. Reigns looked comically annoyed. "Not even _your_ light is enough to snuff out the darkness of this man's mind, my little firefly." he grinned, "You're at best a distraction and...at worst a liability."

Harper melted out of the crowd directly behind Reigns, and Dean's eyes widened. _"ROMAN!"_ he yelled, running to slide under the ropes.

Bray latched onto his leg and Dean thrashed wildly, swinging at Bray's head as the other man hauled him back into the ring. "No no _no!_ " Ambrose raged, the frustration that had been building up in him all night finally erupting. He gnashed his teeth at Bray's hand, missing by fractions of an inch.

" _I just don't feel the same anymore. And I know it's stupid of me to do this over the phone, Dean, so don't say it._ "

" _I thought we were..._ "

" _Whatever you thought is your own issue. You need_ _ **help**_ _, Dean. And I can't give it to you. So I'm making this as painless as possible for me. I'm sure someday you'll understand. I know you'll pull through this okay, so don't make it an issue._ "

" _Don't I get a fucking say in this, darlin'?_ "

" _See, you're already upset_ -"

" _Of course I'm_ _ **fucking**_ _upset, you're telling me four fucking_ _ **years**_ _of my life aren't worth shit! Was I ever worth any fucking thing to you, doll? Or was I just your fucking meal ticket?_ "

" _Dean please. I didn't want this to be difficult._ "

" _That makes one of us, because every fucking thing I do is difficult. Especially when I've got people leading me around by the damn nose, stringing me along like a goddamn fucking idiot. Did you ever...you know what. Forget it. It doesn't really matter, does it?_ "

Dean screamed wordlessly, his skin abruptly feeling too small and hot. Something in his brain, the side he tried to not let out to play too often, was hollering for blood and he would be damned if he kept it waiting.

He tore his shirt off in frantic pieces while Bray's grip on his leg stayed rock-solid. Dean slammed his other boot into Bray's chin, finally escaping his grasp. Dean was back to his feet in an instant, frenzied blows landing with no real coordination.

At some point Dean had started crying. He only noticed when he smashed his forehead into Bray's, knocking the other man flat . Dean reeled from the blow, blood dribbling down from his split forehead and stinging his eyes. He blinked painfully, scanning the crowd for Roman and Luke. A huge, open palm caught him around his neck, tossing him into the ropes like a rag doll.

Bray put a hand on Luke's shoulder, and the larger man leaned down so Bray could whisper in his ear. The smile that crept across Luke's face would have made Dean queasy, but the headbutt he'd delivered had already satisfied his brain damage quota for the night. Dean retched, blood and salt in his mouth leaving a bitter copper taste.

"Fuck you." he rasped. "Fuck you, fuck your games, fuck your bigass hillbilly sidekicks, _fuck you!_ " Dean shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. Bray's arm wrapped around his throat, dragging him back into the middle of the canvas.

"Little Dean, little Dean. You certainly are the craziest of my fireflies, aren't you?" Bray crooned in his ear as Dean struggled against him. "Where _is_ your Roman? Where is your precious savior, your _I can I will_ , knight in shining armor?"

"Fuck-" Dean choked, clawing at Bray's hold on him. He was going to Sister Abigail him and it was going to hurt like a bitch and there was _nothing_ he could do-

"Where's your Superman now, hmm?" Bray's beard brushed against Dean's ear. The 'Lunatic' grabbed a handful of the other man's facial hair and pulled with all his might.

Bray released Ambrose, shrieking in pain and taking a step back. Harper caught Dean with a clothesline, flooring him easily. But Dean rolled back to his feet, baring his teeth and slavering a little as what limited control he _did_ have slipped away.

He lunged for Harper's legs, tackling the man. Luke tumbled to the canvas, scrambling to get out from underneath the rapidly-deteriorating Ambrose. Dean was having none of it though, hauling himself along with Luke and raining blows on the man's upper body. " _You wanna fuck with me? Huh?!_ "

The Universe volume increased abruptly and Dean looked up, catching a right hand to the jaw from Bray that rattled his brain. He was thrown off Luke and he slid to a stop, mat spinning and tilting wildly under him as he pulled himself back up by the ropes.

 _Not good_.

Dean splayed his legs in an attempt to stay upright while he fought with a _ripper_ of a headache telling him to just lay down. Someone was on the ropes behind him and a hand snagged his wrist, making him flinch.

"Gotcha' Uce." Reigns' voice was calm, "Sorry I'm late."

"I thought Harper DDT'ed your ass." Dean rasped, turning his head to look at his friend.

Roman seemed a little worse for the wear. Gray t-shirt stretched out around the neck, blood from a cut on the bridge of his nose making its way down to blot the fabric. His knuckles were already scraped. It looked like Luke had given him a run for his money.

"Shit." Dean swore, shaking free of Roman's grip. "Stay out man, I got this."

"Like hell you do." Reigns grunted, climbing through the ropes. "What kind of brother would I be if I only took _part_ of your beating?" he joked easily.

 _You asshole_. Dean smiled in spite of himself, "You _wish_ you could!"

"Let's waste this catastrophic cluster, what do you say?" Roman held out his fist, and Dean bumped his own against it.

"Oh my. Oh my goodness gracious." Bray giggled from across the ring. "Look at you two. Brothers in everything but blood. When's the wedding, my little fireflies?"

"Who do you want?" Reigns asked, leaning against the ropes while Bray continued to have some kind of breakdown.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Gimme Bray. I'll help you with Harper when I'm finished."

"You mean I'll help _you_ with Bray when _I'm_ finished?"

"Whatever lets you feel better, Reigns!"

Roman huffed, shooting his friend a wry grin before letting out a fierce war cry and immediately hitting Luke with a Spear. Harper was bowled over by the tattooed man, the two of them moving to trade punches in a heap on the ground outside the ring.

Ambrose and Bray circled around each other, making swipes and feints in an attempt to throw one another off balance. "Give up, Lunatic!" Bray taunted. "You're just putting him in harm's way, you know that! Why keep doing it?"

Dean screamed something at him, he didn't really know himself what he said. It probably wasn't pleasant. Bray sneered. "You're deep in it, Crazy. He permeates your being. He's in your bones and blood. I can smell him on you. He won't make you sane, little one. Just like she didn't make you sane. You drive everyone away, Dean! _Rollins_. Your woman. How long before he leaves too?"

 _Don't let him get to you, come on!_ Dean fought off the way his limbs wanted to freeze and listen every time Bray spoke about Roman. "Don't you have a sister to bang or something, Wyatt? You know I'm not the brightest bulb in the box; the hell do you want with _me?_ " Dean asked, leaning back when Bray swung at him for mentioning Abigail so irreverently. "I'm a goddamn crazy ass wearing some jeans and a cute smile. And you're a fucking _nutbag_ who thinks he's gonna' devour my world like a plate of your cousin-mom's cooking. I'd say we're on the same level, but-"

Ambrose slapped his hands down on Bray's chest, grabbing two fistfuls of tanktop and heaving them nose-to-nose. Bray snarled in his face and he bared his teeth in reply. "-why would I lie to you like that, ol' _buddy?_ " Dean closed his jaw with a snap, liking the way Bray flinched at the noise. "You're a two-bit son of a bitch who needs a shower and shave more than anything on this planet-"

Bray's teeth sank into Dean's shoulder, interrupting what promised to be a fantastic rant. Ambrose yelled more out of surprise than pain, hammering his fist into the side of Bray's head. The bearded man held on doggedly for a few seconds, finally tearing free when Dean dug at his eyes.

Saliva dribbled freely from Dean's mouth, the man in a frothing frenzy as he leaped bodily on top of Bray and began pummeling him with his fists. Bray raised his arms, trying to protect his face from the onslaught of the 'Lunatic'.

"You wanna' _bite_ me like a rabid fucking dog, I'll put your ass _down!_ " Ambrose roared, hauling Bray to his feet and quickly gripping the man under his arms for a furiously-delivered Dirty Deeds. Bray's face met the canvas with a sick ' _crack!_ ', blood dribbling from his newly broken nose. He laid there limp while Dean pinned him, the three count signaling that the match was over.

But it was far from over for one 'Lunatic Fringe'. The man's eyes were wild as he staggered to his feet and let loose an enraged yell before running and launching full-Flying Lunatic through the ropes, knocking Harper to the ground. Reigns had been about to wallop Luke with that deadly right hand of his, but Dean interrupted him by putting Harper into his grave. Maybe literally.

Roman grappled Dean from behind, trying to drag him off Luke. "Its over, Dean, come on! Dean!" he grunted, catching an elbow to his stomach for his trouble. "Christ, _UCE!_ " He slapped Ambrose upside the head, making the other man pause for a second, fist cocked back. "Dean it's me. It's Roman. The match is over. You're okay. We're okay." Reigns said as evenly as he could, not loosening his grip yet.

He knew how Dean could get.

Several tense seconds went by, and Dean finally shook his head. "You alright? Did I hurt you?" he rasped.

Roman sighed in relief, releasing him and getting to his feet. "Just an elbow. I slapped you for it. You good?" he asked, extending a hand to help his brother up.

"Yeah." Dean took the proffered hand, grimacing at the pain in his shoulder. "Jesus Christ, I wanted to bite his fucking ears off."

"I'm sure you would have if he hadn't gone down. Nice Deeds."

"You saw?" Dean preened a little bit, straightening his jeans out. "It wasn't a big deal."

"You gotta get that bite checked, though. Looks like he sawed at you." Roman grinned, "Maybe you'll need stitches."

"Psh, I got worse than this from my grandma on Thanksgiving. Old bitch doesn't know when to take a hint." Dean snorted, making Roman chuckle and slap him on the back.

"Let's get you to a medic."

* * *

Dean flinched every time the medic touched him, his skin jumpy with exhaustion. Roman rested his hand on his good shoulder finally, stilling him.

"Just let the kid do his stuff. And stop making faces at him, Ambrose."

"I'm _not_ -"

"Yes, you are. Now stop it."

Dean grumbled something that sounded like ' _worse than Rollins_ ' under his breath, folding his arms across his chest. Reigns rolled his eyes at his brother, resisting the urge to ruffle Dean's still-damp curls.

"Shit stings like a bitch." Dean said calmly after a few minutes. "I ain't a fan of it."

"We'll have a cheat night if you can fucking _behave_ , Ambrose." Roman offered.

Dean perked up at that, his eyes lighting up when they met Roman's. "Like. Chinese food cheat night?" he asked excitedly.

"Wasn't that what you were planning on anyway, earlier? You seemed pretty uptight about it." Reigns replied, brow furrowing when Dean's shoulders visibly drooped. "Uce?"

Dean suddenly ducked his head to snarl at the medic, who jumped backwards when confronted with the business end on six feet and four inches of irritated 'Lunatic'. "Look buddy, I know it's been a rough night for you so I'll be delicate. If you fucking _rub_ my _raw fucking skin_ with that swab one more _fucking_ time, I'll break your _damn arm_." Ambrose hissed through his teeth.

"Whoa whoa, easy Uce." Roman had no idea why his friend snapped when he did, but he supposed it was part and parcel of working with someone who called themselves the 'Lunatic Fringe'. He quickly stepped between Ambrose and the medic, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Cool it. I know you're riled over Bray. The guy gets under _everyone's_ skin, man. Just let the kid finish and I promise, cross my heart, we'll have a cheat night."

Dean sighed, settling sulkily back down onto the crate and folding his arms again. He jerked his chin at the medic cowering behind Reigns. "C'mon, hurry up kid. I get Chinese food and you get to not have your arm broken. Pretty sweet deal."

* * *

Roman slapped him playfully on the back of the head once they left the trainer area. "Serves you damn right for comparing me to Rollins _and_ threatening a medic." he complained when Dean asked ' _what was that for?!_ ' "I'll still buy you Chinese, even though you do these terrible things to me Ambrose. Because I'm a good man."

"Coulda' fooled me." Dean winked at him, still rubbing the back of his head. Roman's hand covered his own for a second, and Dean noticed with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that Roman's eyes were uncharacteristically serious. The hand slid to the nape of his neck, tugging him into a halfhearted headbutt.

It was a typical Roman thing that Dean was accustomed to, the forehead slamming that seemed like the natural next step when they'd become more comfortable with each other in The Shield. The hugs were great but nothing said " _I've got you man_ " like carefully whacking your skulls together.

"You okay Uce?" Roman asked quietly, his eyes searching Dean's. "Something fucked you up earlier. If you need to talk, you know I'm here."

"I know. And I appreciate that, Ro." Roman's look was kind of... _intense_ (those damn gray eyes will be the _death_ of him, Dean knows it) but Dean's alpha male side reared its ugly head and forced him to maintain eye contact. "It's just not a phone call anyone wants to get. Shit, it's not a conversation anyone wants to have over the phone." He tried to explain, disliking the way Reigns' eyes narrowed in concern. "I don't really wanna' talk about it."

"Well if you _do_." was all Roman said as he released Dean, ruffling his hair.

"Thanks, man."

* * *

If Roman hadn't had any idea that Dean was upset before, he certainly knew it now. Dean sat sprawled out on the hotel room couch, cartons of food almost entirely untouched on the small end table in front of him. The television was on, some news channel filling the silence as Roman ate.

"Dean..." he began around a mouthful of rice, somewhat surprised when Ambrose actually straightened up.

"Go ahead." Dean sounded defeated. "Tell me I'm a fuck-up. I can't even let you enjoy our cheat night without ruining it with my shit mood."

"Well maybe you should just _tell_ me what happened?" Reigns suggested.

"It'll give you indigestion."

Roman laughed at that, the happier sound perking Dean up a little. "I doubt it, Uce. Try me."

"She uh..." Dean leaned forward, feeling like the aches and pains set in anew at his adjustment in position. "I'm single again, I guess." he said softly, unable to meet Roman's eyes. He stared at the carpet, the bandage on his shoulder pulling on his skin. One of his hands scraped against the wrap in annoyance, tugging until he was more comfortable. "Say somethin' bro, you're making me nervous." Dean mumbled, continuing to fiddle with the tape and gauze.

"So that stuff with Bray tonight..." Reigns trailed off when Dean nodded.

"He was talkin' a lot of shit man. 'Bout her. Rollins." _And you_.

"Fuck Dean, I'm sorry. I thought you were just having a tough time focusing. I wouldn't have hollered so much if I'd known that." Roman apologized, throwing an arm around Dean's shoulders and hauling him in for another gentler-than-normal forehead bump. He sighed heavily. "What's her reasoning?"

"I'm fucking _nuts_ , Reigns. You know the story. Fucking crazy ass basket case." Dean's arms flailed out from beneath Roman's to illustrate his point. "Nuts. Also nuts about her and only her for four damn years. Nuts. Crazy. Goddamn lunatic. 'A danger to the people around me and myself'." He dragged Roman's arm off his shoulders and dropped it, lunging to his feet and starting to pace. His fingers tapped an erratic rhythm on his collarbone as he moved back and forth.

Reigns watched him warily, hands on his knees. Occasionally Dean would lash out, potentially at other people but _usually_ taking out the majority of his anger on himself. Dean was his own worst enemy ninety-five percent of the time.

Roman could recall a few nights when they had been in developmental where Dean had flat-out demanded to be hit, sometimes doing it to himself if no one else would humor him. It had seemed to take his mind off of being so damned hungry or tired or just fucking _sick of waiting_.

The Shield was a different story. They had come together begrudgingly as teammates, allies. Brothers, eventually. They managed each other, they cared for each other. Reigns had an understanding with the other two men that they had each others backs, no matter what. Even if things got a little tense in the locker room.

Rollins had always been testy though. Dean had been raging about something, tearing at his hair and screaming in frustration from the argument that he and Seth had, and Roman had done the only thing that ever worked for anyone when he and his family got heated. He cracked his forehead against Dean's, enough force behind it to feel it in his jaw. Ambrose was notorious for being hard-headed. He just hadn't thought he was _literally_ hard-headed.

Dean had stopped dead, stunned. Roman could still remember the betrayed look in his eyes and the way his hands had trembled and then rapidly clenched. Ambrose seemed to think he was being attacked.

" _What the fuck, man?_ " Dean breathed, whole body tensing when Reigns applied more pressure with his own forehead. " _What are you_ _ **doing**_ _?_ "

" _Do me a favor, Uce. In through the nose, out through the mouth._ " Roman remembered thinking he was about to deal with a shit ton of 'Lunatic'.

"' _Uce_ ' _?_ " Dean had asked instead, surprising him. Reigns had winced internally at his verbal slip-up; calling Dean 'Uce' seemed weirdly intimate. But, after all the shit they'd been through together...

He soldiered on. " _Uso. Brother_." Roman shrugged. " _This is how my mama would cool me, my brother and my cousins off. Whack our heads together and remind us that we were friends, so act like it_."

" _Your mom sounds like a smart broad_."

" _Easy there fuckface, that's my mama you're talking about._ "

" _No offense. Mama's boy_."

" _None taken._ " Roman had maintained eye contact, watching as Dean's face lit up.

" _Brother, huh. It's kinda' catchy, but I think you're the only one that can pull it off._ "

" _Well I sure as shit ain't stopping once I've started. So you'd better get used to being my Uce._ "

Roman got to his feet, back in the here and now. He stood in Dean's path, halting the man's pacing by framing his face with his hands and bringing their foreheads together again. "Uce." he intoned calmly, firmly. A statement, and with it a promise. _You will_ _ **always**_ _be my brother_.

Dean's face crumbled and he ducked his jaw out of Roman's hands. "Th' fuck do you have to make me feel so _important_ for, Reigns." His hands shook when they wrapped around Roman's waist and pulled him into a fierce embrace, a single sob gasping out against Reigns' neck when Roman hugged him back just as tightly. "You're the best brother a guy could ask for." Dean mumbled, "I'm sorry I'm the shittiest brother. Crazy, four fries short brother. What the fuck."

Roman just shook his head. "You're doing what you've always done, Ambrose. The best you can." He sighed. "The playing field never seems level for either of us. But if we stick together, I think maybe we can flatten it."

"Damn I fucking hope so. I'm sick and tired of getting knocked down." Dean growled.

* * *

 _Something's different_ , Dean realized hazily as he ran down the stairs from the concourse. The belt that he'd... _acquired_ from Rollins was gripped firmly in his hand, knuckles white from the force of his fist. _Triple H, you son of a bitch, why the fuck did you do this to him?! He's the most important thing that I have, you giant fuckskull!_

He was sick and tired of watching Reigns take a beating on the whim of the COO. First Wade Barret, then Mark Henry, Bray Wyatt. Now, The Authority had the _balls_ to slink around the apron while Roman struggled to stand.

 _Stay the fuck down Ro, I'm coming. Hang on!_

Dean launched himself over the barricade to stand on the commentary table, strap hoisted proudly in the air as he beckoned Kane, Noble, Mercury, _Rollins_ to fight him for it. " _Leave Roman_ _ **alone**_ _, you greasy_ _ **fuck!**_ " Ambrose screamed at Seth, leaping bodily over the man when he dove at him.

Dean scrambled hastily into the ring, Reigns' fingers gripping his thigh as they stood back-to-back. "Dean-!"

" _Scold me later, Uce!_ " Ambrose interrupted, the familiar word rolling off his tongue clumsily. Reigns' only response was an exhausted-sounding laugh before he threw himself at Kane, walloping the corporate demon off the apron.

Dean scrambled to get rid of Noble after dodging an overzealous tackle from Mercury, whipping the smaller man over the top rope by the scruff of his neck. Roman squared up in his corner as Ambrose whirled around, just in time to gesture as though he was firing Reigns like a cannon. The tattooed man let out a resounding war cry and Speared Mercury, crumpling against the ropes when he landed poorly on his battered wrist.

Rollins was abruptly in the ring, close enough for Dean to bite ( _what a weird way to think of space_ Dean chided himself). Ambrose was struck with a brilliant idea and threw the title belt with all his strength into Seth's chest, knocking the man back a step. Dean's eyes narrowed while Seth floundered.

 _Perfect_.

His boot slammed into Seth's midsection, bending the man over for a second. Dean hooked his arms under Rollins', took a deep breath and then exhaled hard as he delivered what he would deem one of his more heartfelt Dirty Deeds.

" _You fuck with Roman, you answer to **me!**_ " Dean yelled to The Universe, stolen belt held high over his head. Reigns staggered to stand next to Ambrose, tapping his fist and grinning broadly at his friend.

* * *

"I can't believe you came, Uce. I thought you were in Vegas." Roman winced as the trainer continued taping up his wrist.

"Eh, that was this morning. I had some sky miles that were gonna expire." Ambrose couldn't seem to stop shaking, fingers drumming nervously on his knee. "I can't stick around here man, you know Rollins will be after me. Can I find you later?"

"Obviously Uce, I'll text you." Reigns caught Dean's arm as the man rose, fixing him with that nearly-patented serious look. "Don't disappear on me, okay?"

A few hours later Dean found himself glaring down at his latest phone like it had offended him, an unsaved number displayed on the screen. "Worse than _fucking_ Rollins," was how he answered the call, Roman's laugh on the other end managing to slightly soothe his annoyance at having to deal with an _actual phone call_ instead of the promised text.

" _I was worried! You're a rolling stone Uce, figured I'd make sure you weren't already in the air_."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. 'Big Dog', my ass. More like 'Big Mother Hen'." Ambrose grumbled, kicking a rock.

" _Alright alright, I'm sure your park bench looks real cozy right now Tough Guy. Wanna come over?_ "

"Just get me the room number. Pretty sure I've been loitering outside for half a fucking hour."

* * *

After Roman hung up, he grimaced at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked like he'd been through hell, and while that wasn't far off, he felt the inexplicable urge to clean up for Dean. He settled for clumsily tying back his hair, his taped-up wrist making the task far more difficult than it would have been normally.

A few strands escaped to curl next to his jaw. Roman grumbled in irritation.

The quiet knock on the door interrupted his nigh-shameless primping, and the black-haired man tugged his shirt to straighten it out before opening the door cautiously.

"Uce." he grinned, opening his arms wide and hauling Dean in for their customary forehead bash. Ambrose rested there once they connected, his eyes seeming a little more unsettled than usual as they darted back and forth between Reigns'.

"What's wrong?" Roman asked after several moments went by, confused when Dean shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.

" _Uce_." Ambrose's voice was almost nothing, a raspy whisper. He opened his eyes again and the look in them sent a hot jolt down Roman's spine. " _My_ brother." he continued, tilting his head to the side and smiling lazily at Reigns. "You've been there for me so many fucking times, Ro. I just...this morning I woke up with that fucking belt and I realized that I should have brought you with me. I fucking left you to be my goddamn messenger boy. Of _course_ the Authority would come down on you, its no fucking secret that you're essentially my only friend in the company. I'm just sorry I didn't get here sooner."

"Hey, it all worked out man. As far as I know I still have my place in the match. That's all that really matters." Reigns pointed out, rumpling Ambrose's hair. His hand slid to the back of Dean's neck like it had so many times.

"You being fucking safe and whole matters to _me_ , Reigns. I'm just sorry that it took me this fucking long to make it known." Dean's eyes flicked down briefly to Roman's lips, and then back up. "I'm sorry I took this long to tell you."

"Tell me what, that you care? Like it's not obvious, Uce. We're brothers. Feels like we have been forever, y'know?" Roman said easily. "You finally calling me Uce in the ring was kickass, by the way." he added, that shudder zipping down his back again at Dean's laugh.

"You liked that? I was worried I'd butcher it." Ambrose admitted, pressing his forehead against Roman's a little harder. "Uce."

"Uce." Reigns echoed quietly, cupping Dean's face. Ambrose's eyes closed as Roman tilted his own head to the side. "What can I do for you, Dean?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, I hate to say it out loud but..you always make me feel important. Figure maybe I ought to return the favor." Dean said it so nonchalantly, like he was talking about the weather. "Whatever you'll give me, I'm gonna horde it forever. You know I will."

With that Roman pressed his lips to Dean's, an excited sound leaving the blond when Reigns' hands fell to grip his hips. Ambrose's shirt was far too short for his tall frame, the battered article resting several inches above Dean's jeans. Roman wasted no time shoving it up even further.

It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other in various states of undress. Shit, there had been numerous times they'd slept in the same _bed_. But they both knew tonight was different.

"You're all banged up though, Ro." Ambrose pointed out worriedly when Reigns pulled back for air. "I mean, I know you're a tough motherfucker but you have had a fucking _night_ of it." Dean's smile was back. "You lay down, okay? Get comfy."

Roman laid back on the bed, more than a little confused. Dean pressed a kiss to the bruise beneath his left eye, getting a quiet noise out of the other man. "I'm sorry I wasn't there in time to prevent all of this."

"Hey, stop blaming yourself. I'm alright, Uce." Roman insisted, hissing a breath out through his teeth when Ambrose palmed him through his pajama pants. " _Fuck's_ sake."

"Interested?" Dean teased, shaking hands trying to untie the drawstring on Reigns' pants.

"Hey, giving a beatdown with you in the ring is an exciting experience. I can't help it." Roman shot back, his own hands having a hard time undoing Dean's jeans. Ambrose groaned at the contact, pressing his groin against Reigns' fingers needily. He was half-hard already, if the straining against the zipper was any indicator.

"Maybe...I should invest in some looser pants." Dean admitted, batting Roman's hands away carefully and fighting with his zipper himself.

"Don't even think about it." Roman growled. "The way your ass looks in those jeans is a fucking gift."

"Whoo, Prince fucking Charming over here." Ambrose mocked with a grin on his face, dimples happily displayed.

"Get fucking bent _Uce_ , get the fuck over here so I can touch you." Reigns demanded, surprised when Dean obliged by scooting closer and yanking his shirt off. "Thank you."

Ambrose didn't reply, choosing instead to mouth over the front of Roman's pants before slowly easing them down. Reigns growled in the back of his throat, the noise dying at the look on Dean's face. He was looking at Roman like he'd never seen him before, and it was weirdly gratifying to the tattooed man.

"You're fucking gorgeous. I know you already know, but uh. Figured I'd hammer the point home." Ambrose shrugged helplessly and wrapped his fingers around Roman's cock.

Reigns couldn't help the gasp that escaped or the way his grip threatened to tear holes in the comforter beneath him because _Dean Dean holy fuck_ -

He pressed his palms to the flat plane of Dean's stomach, feeling more than hearing the quick inhale from the man over him. "You okay? This okay? Can I touch you?" _Shit, maybe he doesn't want me to touch_. _Shit shit_.

"I fucking took my shirt off, didn't I? C'mon Roman, I'm all scarred and shit, no cool tattoos. Like I would turn down someone who wanted to touch me." Ambrose said plainly. " _Especially_ you."

"Fucking _hell_ Dean." Ambrose's words made him want to be furious. Who _wouldn't_ want to touch Dean? Whoever had made the rougher man feel he wasn't worth being touched was apparently looking for an asswhupping.

Roman dragged his fingers across the defined 'V' of Dean's hips and dipped them below the boxers.

* * *

Dean lashed out at Jericho as best as he could with his arms wrapped in the sickly-white stranglehold of the straitjacket, doing nothing but make Chris laugh at him.

"You stupid _idiot_ , you dumb fucking _lunatic!_ " the older man jeered, continuing to chuckle as he watched Ambrose struggle harder and harder.

Dean was frothing at the mouth, doing nothing but exhaust himself as he flailed and kicked and squirmed in a mad frenzy of an attempt to get free. All the while his mind chanting _help Roman help Roman help Roman HELP ROMAN HELP_ -

It wouldn't do him any good. Dean knew that. Roman had his own problems to worry about. Defending his title was a full-time job, even with his cousins to back him up. Dean felt sometimes that he had fallen by the wayside, tossed away in the tattooed man's quest to keep what he deserved. He didn't resent Roman. He couldn't. He just...

 _I miss you, Big Dog. I miss you, Uce._

Ambrose landed hard on his side after a botched kick, breathing hard and fast as he tried to get back up. Jericho was suddenly there, _there_ , close enough that Dean could see the off-kilter look in his eyes. "What's the matter, _lunatic?_ " Chris hissed, grinning savagely when Dean rolled away onto his back and started straining at the jacket anew. "Good luck getting out, you fucking basket case. It's _made_ for you!"

Dean ducked his head to tear at the neck of the jacket with his teeth, but the fabric held up to his onslaught. He wanted to cry, to scream, _something anything get me out of this!_

Jericho's hand caught his chin in a vice grip, holding the younger man steady while he leisurely slapped the shit out of him. Soon Ambrose's ears were ringing from the blows, his vision swimming when Jericho finally released him with another mean-spirited laugh. Dean felt like his nose was broken. Maybe his cheekbone. Something was going to need some heal time.

Slowly, Dean managed to roll back into a crouched position. Chris circled him, knocking him down with a well-placed boot when he got too comfortable.

 _Roman's not coming. You're on your own, Ambrose. Just like before._

Dean choked back a noise in his throat, fighting down the memories of the asylum, of the fucking jackets and walls and walls and walls and _walls_ -

" _ **KA MATE! KA MATE! KA ORA! KA MATE!**_ " hollered two familiar voices.

The Uso Siva Tau was taken up by The Universe as Roman's entrance music hit. Ambrose would freely admit later that he sobbed in relief, laying helpless on his back while Jericho ground a heel into his pelvis.

" _Get the hell away from him!_ " Roman roared. All Dean saw before he zoned out was Reigns' legs on either side of his body, a fist connected to a tattooed arm colliding with Chris Jericho's cheek.

...there were voices. Someone sitting him up and tearing at the belts on his back from the side. Dean fought whoever it was, terrified that this was it, this was it, he would be sent back and this would be the last thing he did. He headbutted the person, face bruised to the point where he could hardly open his eyes and he didn't even fucking care.

"Uce, Jesus fuck," Roman groaned, "ow."

"You came..." Dean's voice was barely a shadow of its normal raspy glory. "Why? I figured you'd forget about me-"

"What the fuck Dean, how could I forget you?" Roman's tone was warmer than his words, the man continuing to struggle with the buckles.

Tears began to escape Ambrose's swollen eyes, tracking down his face. He was dimly aware of the Usos at ringside, still taunting a down-for-the-count Jericho. "I just..."

Roman hushed him, finally getting the last belt undone and jerking the jacket down off Dean's shoulders. "We can talk later, when you're patched up."

Ambrose hadn't realized he was shaking violently as he sat on the exam table. Reigns stood beside the table, still in his ring vest, with his arms crossed. The Heavyweight belt rested easily over his left shoulder. He placed a steadying hand on Dean's arm, humming out a low, calm noise. "Settle down, Uce. You're safe here." he murmured.

"It was just the jacket. I'm okay otherwise." Dean managed to say through gritted teeth.

Reigns shook his head at his brother, a rueful smile on his face. "Yeah yeah, Tough Guy. Humor me and stick around for them to check you out _anyway_. Jericho..." Roman's eyes darkened. "He really has it out for you, huh?"

"A jacket for a jacket. He's a funny motherfucker." Ambrose grimaced as the trainer came through the door.

* * *

Roman took Dean's arm carefully once the trainer was done patching him up. His facial swelling had been brought down somewhat with ice, but the bruises were blooming hard and fast. The boot-shaped mark on Dean's hip had made Roman's breath catch in his throat.

"I don't think I'm in any shape to drive." Dean finally spoke as Reigns helped him put on his jacket in the locker room. "Do you have your cousins rooming with you or...?"

"Nah, I've got my own room. I'll get you home, no worries Uce." Roman said firmly. "And even if they were, there's always room for you Dean."

Ambrose went still for a minute. Roman took off his ring vest, stowing it in his duffel and yanking on a (hopefully) clean t-shirt. Dean sniffled, making Reigns sigh and turn back to him, eyes fixed on Dean's battered shoes.

"I've been a shit brother, Uce. I've been so focused on...I mean, I won't make fucking excuses. I've been distracted. I haven't paid nearly enough attention to you, after _everything_ that you did for me, that _we_ did and I..." Roman trailed off when Dean pressed against his forehead with his own.

"Hey." Ambrose said, sounding choked-up. "Uce. You gotta stop saying this mushy bullshit." His smile was half-assed at best, but Roman couldn't help smiling back. "Just take me home already Reigns."

* * *

Dean cried out, fists clenching into the bedspread as Roman carefully fucked him with his fingers. Reigns hummed softly, his free hand occasionally stroking Dean's cock. Ambrose panted, "Fuck's sake Uce, c'mon!" when Roman batted Dean's hand away from his zipper.

"Absolutely not. After the night you've had?" Reigns shook his head. "Hell no. Just relax, Dean. Enjoy me like this." he said quietly, making Ambrose's eyes go wide.

"What the fuck Ro, c'mon." Dean mumbled after several seconds of steady eye contact. "Y'can't look at me like that, all fuckin'...all fierce and shit, and _not_ expect me to reciprocate. You're _knuckle-fucking-deep_ in me righ' now, Uce, c'mon." he pleaded.

"You've got more bruises than skin right now, Dean." Roman kissed Dean's thigh. "So stop worrying about me, and let me hear you enjoy yourself." He smirked against the pale skin. "I'd like you to be more detailed, too. Am I doing this right?" Roman asked, curling his fingers in a way that made Ambrose's breathing hitch. "I'd like to hope that we'll be doing this a lot more often. Ought to get a jumpstart on learning your ins and outs."

Dean moaned at Roman's words, a few tears sliding out. He wasn't upset, by any means, just a little overwhelmed. No one had ever taken this approach with him. He was pretty sure he wasn't worth it to begin with.

Roman seemed to understand, wiping the tears away with his thumb carefully. "You deserve a hell of a lot more than you've been given, Ambrose." His look turned fierce then, making Dean shudder around his fingers as he fought not to cum on the spot. "I intend on making you understand that, regardless of how long that takes."

Reigns brought one of Dean's hands to rest on his head and then ducked, flashing the trembling man a grin. "Keep my hair out of the way, okay? I'm not as good at this as I should be."

Dean gave him a shaky thumbs-up, mouth dropping open when Roman wrapped his lips around his cock. "Ro-!" Ambrose's throat went dry, the straitjacket horror long-forgotten as he focused on Roman _goddamn_ Reigns fucking him with his mouth and fingers.

Dean had a moment of razor-sharp clarity, carding his hands helplessly through Roman's hair. _If this is what love is, maybe it's not so bad. Shit, maybe I've always loved him_ ,Ambrose realized, taking in how _right_ he felt with Roman's body between his legs. That thought went straight to his groin, and he tapped the side of Roman's face in warning. "H-hey-"

Reigns' fingers suddenly curled, pressing up towards Dean's stomach and oh, _oh_ god he was cumming.

Roman waited until he had stopped twitching before swallowing, easing his fingers out of Ambrose and looking for all the world like he was about to spew some poetic bullshit that would no doubt set Ambrose's tears off again. "Nope, no way." Dean gasped out, cutting him off at the pass. "Don't you dare. Just get up here and jerk off where I can see you, okay?"

"Dean-"

"Don't _Dean_ me, Reigns. C'mon. Please?" Ambrose begged, "I can't suck you off with my face like this, but I promise I will once I'm healed up. Please?"

"Dean, I kind of..." Roman trailed off, leaning over and lifting his shirt up a bit. His cock was pinned against his stomach with the waistband of his boxers, and the inside of his shirt's hem was smeared with cum.

Dean huffed out a startled, " _oh_." A few seconds later he grinned painfully and said, "that's hot as _fuck_ , Ro, when did you even cum?"

"Couple seconds before you." Roman rubbed the back of his neck, an embarrassed smile crossing his face. "You uh. Want to...I mean, after I wash my hands do you-"

"Oh my god _Reigns_." Ambrose grumbled, "hurry up and get back here so we can sleep."

Roman laughed, pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead in passing. Dean settled back against the lumpy hotel pillows, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes contentedly.

 _Yep. I think we'll do just fine._

* * *

AN: Holy shit this is long as hell. I uh. I hope everyone enjoyed! Been into wrestling for a while, but this is my first Ambreigns contribution. Thanks for reading! You're the best, seriously.


	2. Chapter 2: Peace Of Mind or Day Old Hate

Peace Of Mind _or_ Day Old Hate

The car ride was silent.

As was the check in, a few muttered words to the tired-looking woman at the front desk and then the two battered men are riding upstairs in an elevator.

The silence wasn't necessarily _uncomfortable_ , but it was heavier than either man would like. "How's your back?" Dean finally asked when the elevator doors pinged open, ignoring the swimming feeling he got with the motion.

Roman shrugged. "I'll be okay. How you holding up?"

"Fuckin' hurts man." It's obvious (though maybe not outwardly obvious) that Dean isn't talking about his body. He fought back the traitorous welling up of his eyes as Roman fumbled with the keycard briefly.

The lone king size bed on the left side of the room is what broke the dark-haired man. He just stood, barely inside the doorway. His bag full of ring gear rolled off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a quiet _thud_.

"Ro...?" Dean asked slowly, because he knows that face. He'd seen it a lot in the mirror after yet another fucking awful thing had knocked him flat on his ass. "Hey, take it easy okay?"

"That _weasel_." Roman snarled. Dean knew that being angry was much easier for him than being sad. "That fucking son of a _bitch_." His fingers worked quickly at yanking the support tape off his wrists.

"Roman." Dean's voice had a hint of warning to it. "Don't lose your shit on me now, Big Dog." His tone and posture softened visibly when Roman slumped onto the bed, his head in his hands. "We'll figure this out, okay? Don't get upset. Not yet, anyway."

"I'm gonna' punch him in the mouth." Roman mumbled between his fingers. He reached behind him and dragged the pillow in the middle, Seth's pillow, to his chest. "Rollins..."

Dean didn't exactly _expect_ Roman to burst into tears, but he supposed it was only a matter of time. He himself had only barely held it together when Roman had crumpled to the unseen blow from Seth. Dean felt like he may have gotten off a bit easier than his partner. Orton had ignored the 'Lunatic' for the most part, but he'd gone out of his way to wound Reigns. Even tearing off his vest and undershirt to expose his battered back to a horrified Universe.

"Ro..." Dean crouched in front of Roman, placing a hand on his knee.

"I hurt so much, Dean, so fucking much-" Roman gasped out, latching his teeth down onto his fist afterward in an attempt to muffle his sobs. "My fucking back-"

"Why didn't you let the trainers see? Jesus Ro. You don't have to be a hardass all the time." Ambrose scolded, "He hit you out of the fucking blue and then Orton had a field day. You should have let the medics look at you!"

"I'm _stronger_ than that!" Roman growled, "I have no choice, I _have_ to be. If this is how he's gonna fucking play-!"

"You being injured, festering and gettin' benched for six months ain't something I wanna think about, Reigns. C'mon."

Dean wasn't used to being the one who soothed or calmed, that was Roman's job. Even if his methods were a little more 'football locker room' and a little less 'tender loving care', there was nothing quite like a well-meaning head smash or fistbump. The occasional impact of forearm to forearm, while not nearly as common, was usually an unexpected bonus. Roman seemed to ooze fight and willpower through skin contact. Dean recalled pulling through a few matches, tank on empty and nothing but the feeling of Reigns' large hand on the back of his neck making him move, urging him back up even when he thought he had nothing.

"Uce..." Dean said, gently pawing the other man's hair to one side so he could see his face. "Ro, please. Tomorrow morning, yeah? We'll get you to a pro, get you checked out. I ain't sleeping unless you agree. We have to stick together now, because we're all we have, right? So please..." Dean rested his forehead on the pillow Roman still had in a death grip against his torso.

It smelled like Seth.

Ambrose felt his control slip a fraction.

 _Please **don't** **leave** me you're all I've **got** Reigns I **need** you_ -

"...we need to repay that fucking weasel." Dean snarled instead, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into the pillow and tear it full of holes.

He felt Roman take a shaky breath and release it in a groan of pain. "It ain't _just_ my back, Uce. I just...the back is the easiest part to pinpoint, y'know?" Roman finally said. "I hurt, my insides feel all twisted and fucked up. I ain't felt like this in _years_ , Dean. I thought we were a team."

His tirade picking up speed, Reigns threw the pillow with all his strength at the wall, then raked his fingers through his hair. "I thought we were _brothers!_ I thought we were together to the top, 'fight bleed and die for each other', _isn't that what he fucking said?_ " Roman raged, hunched over Dean. He was practically screaming into the other man's face, too far gone to care. "I _defended_ him! I kept him _safe!_ _We_ kept him safe! So he could fucking _leave_ with the highest fucking bidder, that sellout _piece of shit!_ "

"Reigns, Jesus." Dean grimaced. Roman was sure to hurt himself more as he got wound up.

 _What the fuck do I do. What the fuck do I **do**?_

Ambrose rose up on his knees and just. Knocked his forehead into Reigns' chest. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to give Reigns pause.

"How many times have we swiped him out from under a guillotine, Roman?" Dean asked, not really expecting an answer.

Roman sniffled above him.

"How many times have we pulled his ass out of hot water? How many times have we been loyal fucking guard dogs for that scumbag?" the blond man shakily exhaled, feeling like he was on the verge of something. Something fucking important, if he could figure it out.

" _Too_ many times, more than I can count! He fucking _used_ us!" Roman replied furiously. "He would _never_ stick his neck out for us like we did for him, like we do for one another!"

"But he doesn't know we're not fucking dogs at all." Dean raised his eyes, giving Roman a grin that showed far too many teeth as all the pieces came together in his head. "We're fucking _wolves_ , Reigns. And we're gonna' _tear his fucking throat out_."

Roman was silent for a few seconds, long enough that Dean began to pull back, afraid he may have overstepped his bounds. Large hands framed his face, and abruptly Ambrose was hauled into a kiss that left him panting against Roman's mouth.

"Damn, Ro."

"Uce." Reigns was looking at him with an expression that Dean could only liken to fucking _reverence_ , and if that wasn't a damn heady thought he didn't know what was. It almost made him nervous. If he even remembered what that felt like. "My _brother_." Reigns rumbled. Their foreheads rested together and their eyes locked for a moment.

...

Roman wasn't known for _talking_. He was very much a man of few words, believing that actions would always be the loudest defining factor in any point of life. He was always worried of tripping over himself verbally, as well. So he chose to keep silent.

But he watched.

He saw more than anyone thought he did.

And he _remembered_.

" _You're too fucking crazy out there, you should have stayed in your fucking padded room!_ " Rollins had screamed at Dean one night. Roman's ears had pricked up.

Dean never apologized. To anyone. **Ever**. And yet there he was, stammering _I'm sorry_ over and over, curling in on himself like he was waiting for a beating. Rollins had thrown his hands up in disgust, leaving the room shortly after and slamming the door behind him.

Reigns had never asked what Dean did before the fighting. He figured that if the blond man offered him that courtesy, he should at least return the favor.

" _Uce?_ " he asked quietly. " _Want me to go get him, talk some sense into him?_ "

Dean had snorted, hiccuping or stifling a sob. Roman could never tell. " _Fuck it, Big Dog. He's right, anyway. I'm a fuckin' liability. Always will be, I guess. Sorry about that_." he mumbled.

When Seth had returned later that night, he'd raised an eyebrow at Ambrose wrapped around Roman, the lighter-haired man sound asleep and Reigns nodding off. But after heaving a heavy sigh all Rollins did was shrug and force his way into the middle of the embrace.

Seth became the one who never apologized.

Dean grew more and more reserved, and Seth seemed to be in a constant state of discontent. It was all Roman could do to just try and keep a balance in the ring as The Authority and Evolution started coming down harder and harder.

He felt kind of dumb, being as surprised as he was with the stunt Rollins pulled tonight. The timing was right, but he guessed that deep down, he'd still wanted to believe that Seth wouldn't turn his back on them. On everything that they'd done for one another.

A spine-bruising blow from a folding chair had thrown that out the window. Reigns had been laid out almost cold in the ring, stunned from the assault. And then the beating from Orton, Dean just out of reach, still curled up on his side. Roman knew he would have bruises on his throat, back, everywhere. But if it meant that Dean was safe...

He could take a chair or two.

The bed reminded him a little too hard of what they'd lost. Who they'd lost. He was so used to falling asleep with Seth's elbows in his ribs and Dean's long legs tangled in his own, it seemed... _wrong_ somehow that they were down to two.

Wrong, and yet...

"Do you trust me?" Roman asked, knowing it was a loaded question. Especially with someone like Dean.

He was concerned with how quickly Dean nodded, the blond not exactly keeping eye contact and his shoulder twitching like he wanted to escape badly. "I'm _serious_ , Uce. Ain't gonna' hurt my feelings if you don't, y'know? Not after what happened tonight." Ambrose fidgeted beneath Roman's serious gaze, fingers hammering away at his collarbone. The black-haired man tried a different tactic. "Should _I_ trust _you_ , Uce?"

Dean fixed Roman with a look of pure fury, blue eyes flashing angrily for an instant before dulling and breaking away. "I don't...know." Ambrose mumbled, seeming dejected. "I don't know what I'll do from one minute to the next. You got no idea...Thoroughbred. No clue what happens in this skull." He tapped the side of his head absently. "I never know."

"But you'd never go to The Authority, right?" Roman pressed. "You haven't yet. If you were gonna' leave, you would have left with Seth. That would have been the smart thing to do."

"I'm not _well-known_ for my intelligence, Reigns." Dean snapped. "I'm well-known for having enough dumb luck to power a small country." He was going to wear a hole through his collarbone if he kept that up.

"I don't want anyone else by my side." Reigns said plainly, making Dean's eyes widen and fingers still. "I want the most _loyal_ fucking maniac with me when the 'Big Dog' and the 'Lunatic Fringe' take down The Authority."

"And I want the quietest, biggest, _angriest_ motherfucker I can dig up with me." Ambrose swallowed hard. "The best vest-wearing warrior in our little team." He seemed dangerously close to tears.

"So I'll ask again, Ambrose." Roman knew that this was a tough call, coming right on the heels of Seth's betrayal. But he needed to know, dammit! "Do you trust me?"

"Y-yeah. I think I do." Ambrose shifted his hands to Roman's arm, the one covered in tattoos. "This is some noble fucking shit, Reigns. If you make me regret this, I swear I'll make you regret doing it." the 'Lunatic' rasped, fingers pressing at random into the different designs on Roman's upper arm.

"Likewise, you fucking nightmare." Reigns grinned, wincing as the pounding of bruises made itself felt. "Dean...Uce. Bed?"

Dean looked positively _skittish_ for a second, and Roman had almost resigned himself to sleeping alone before Ambrose softly said, "yeah, I...yeah. Okay."

Dean clung to him once they were both in bed, flinching and pressing his lips carefully to Roman's throat when he groaned in pain. "I'm so sorry." Ambrose mumbled into Roman's chest, the larger man hushing him and running his fingers through his hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"Sleep, Uce. We've got one hell of a fight ahead of us." Roman whispered, resting his chin on Dean's head and closing his eyes.

* * *

 **AN:** I've had this one sitting half-finished on the computer for a while. Seth coming back reminded me of that fact (I may or may not have been listening to Day Old Hate by City And Color as I was putting the finishing touches on this, hence the two titles). I actually love Rollins, and I can't wait to see what he's got in store for us poor saps.

Enjoy this sad little hunk of kayfabe in _no_ way at all not-porn.


	3. Chapter 3: Reasons

_The bedroom door slamming into the wall as it was forced open is how it always begins in Dean's nightmares._

 _A faceless figure, always bigger than him, always stronger than him_...

Roman had been dozing when Dean had started whimpering and shifting in his sleep, steadily getting louder until Roman woke him up with a stern, " _Dean!_ " The black-haired man had been cross, but the terrified look on Dean's face made the angry words die in his throat. "Dean...you okay?" he asked instead, sitting up a bit more in his bed.

"I wasn't fuckin'...I didn't exactly have a great upbringing, Reigns." Ambrose mumbled from his spot on the couch-bed in the hotel room.

"What does that even-"

"I get-! I g-get...I get nightmares, is all. I ain't good at dealing with them. I'm sorry I woke you up, man. I'll uh. I'll figure something out." Dean said, sliding further down on the couch and actually starting to unlace his boots. He'd been so tired he kind of just fell into bed fully-clothed.

Reigns was suddenly next to him, the other man's closeness making Dean flinch at an almost comical level. "Aha, Jesus. Warn me next time, I'm liable to fuckin' knock you out." he tried to joke, tried to ignore the concern on Roman's face. Guy was an open book sometimes.

"Sorry," Roman apologized quietly. "Do you want to...?" he trailed off, unlacing Dean's other boot for him.

"No, no way. I mean, yeah. But. No also." Ambrose yanked on a chunk of his hair in frustration. "I ain't talked to anyone about it before, y'know? Dunno' if I should break that streak."

"Well it might be a contributing factor in you having nightmares." Reigns pointed out.

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face and laying back on the couch-bed. After a moment he patted the empty space beside him. "I promise I won't keep you up for too long. I'll give you the abridged version."

"Not an issue, Uce. I want you in fighting shape." Roman assured him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and twining his fingers in Dean's free hand.

Ambrose stared down at their hands for a minute, feeling a lump swell in the back of his throat. "Th' fuck Reigns, you're such a golden motherfucker sometimes." he finally managed to say.

Roman cocked his head to the side, seeming confused. "We're a touchy-feely family, Dean. Figured you put that together by now." His grin was easy, gentling the lump in Dean's throat to a dull ache.

"When does Rollins get back? I don't...he doesn't need to hear all this shit." the lighter-haired man stalled, starting to shift his eyes.

"He's not with us tonight, his girl is here. They're probably doing some sort of 24 hour gym date." Roman snorted. "Now spill. What happened to you as a kid that's giving you nightmares even now?"

The pressure of his grip remained steady as Dean struggled with his words, trying to find a good opening point that wouldn't leave him a sobbing wreck. "My mom raised me alone." he began quietly. "It was tough. We moved around a lot and we never really seemed to have enough of what we needed. She did some stuff that...I mean, she had her vices, y'know?" Dean felt a gentle squeeze on his hand, and he took a deep breath. "Sometimes to keep herself in...whatever the substances were, she'd uh. Sell her 'services'. Or have live-in boyfriends. Stuff like that."

His laugh was hollow. "Guys around the age I am now don't like kids around the age I was then. I got my ass handed to me a fair amount by a rotating shitshow of boyfriends. If Mom stepped in, she'd lose their support. There were a few times she rose to the occasion, but usually that'd just turn the aggression onto her instead. And I guess she got tired of taking the beatings for me." Dean fell silent, swallowing hard as a few fragments floated to the top. The way she smelled...the way she'd cry sometimes when he was a bruised little pulp on the floor of some derelict apartment.

"Dean, I had no idea. I'm sorry." Roman's voice was soft, and Dean was damn near eternally grateful for his tag-team partner.

Because there was no pity in his tone. Even though Reigns had essentially lived a sheltered life, had everything handed to him on a silver fucking platter and couldn't _possibly_ understand what it was like to go without, to live month to month not knowing whether the place you leave in the morning is the place you'll be sleep at night...

He was still a fucking decent human being just for giving Ambrose the time of day, never mind listening to him whine about his shit childhood at ass o' clock in the morning. With his shaking hands and fucked-up life, what even in the fuck.

Dean's heart swelled at that, and he grinned weakly up at the black-haired man. The guy he was apparently important enough to that he'd miss out on sleep for him. And everyone knew Roman _loved_ his sleep. "Well, enough of my fuckin' bawling. Thanks for listening, Leakee."

Roman laughed ruefully at the teasing nickname, rumpling Dean's hair. "Don't push it, Uce. But I'm here anytime you need me, got that?"

...

Roman couldn't sleep for a while after that, tossing and turning. Listening to Dean snore softly.

 _What would that even be like?_ he wondered, staring up at the ceiling. _Not having enough food. I mean there were some touch and go times during developmental_ , he reasoned, _I woke up hungry a few mornings. But Dean_...

Roman's heart sank as he recalled Dean always having a (now that he thought about it) downright _suspicious_ amount of food to share. Almost like he didn't care about being fed himself. Dean would also parcel everything out down to the last crust, trying to make sure Reigns got more.

" _You're bigger than me dude, you **need** more!_ " Roman remembered Dean saying when he'd protested. Roman hadn't stopped him then, but now, knowing what he knew?

 _What the hell. How could he share with me?_ Shame bloomed hot across Roman's face. _All I had to do was give my parents a call if I ever needed help. Shit, I could have made it so much easier for him if I'd known! What the fuck is it about people who have nothing giving fucking everything_.

He rolled onto his stomach, flipping the pillow to the cooler side. _I have to be better. At asking. Or listening. Maybe both_...

...

Dean replayed that statement again and again through the next few months. _Anytime you need me_. A couple nights he almost took Roman up on his offer.

But then, they had a _hell_ of an argument over Dean fumbling a move during a match and nearly breaking Roman's wrist.

"This is all I've _got_ , Ambrose! If I break something, I'm _fucked!_ " Roman hollered in his face, huge and angry and _too close too close too close_ -

Dean's whole body started trembling, the proximity and volume of Reigns setting him off. Roman, too upset to notice, gripped the other man's upper arms, probably intending to give him a good shake.

" _Don't you dare touch me!_ " Ambrose erupted at the contact, ripping free of Reigns' grasp and shoving the black-haired man _hard_. Roman fell backwards, landing squarely on his ass with Dean standing over him. Ambrose could hear his pulse slamming in his ears while Roman scrabbled backwards and he stalked after him. "You thought you could just _manhandle_ me, you _motherfucker?!_ " Dean raged, "Just like _everyone else_ , even _Roman fucking Reigns_ gets a kick out of _fucking me up!_ "

" _Wait!_ " Reigns yelled, throwing up a hand and stopping Ambrose in his tracks. "Dean I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." he apologized, his voice soft again. "Please. I'm sorry I was so upset. I shouldn't have done that, not after all the shit that's happened to you." Roman rested his forehead gingerly against Dean's thigh, no doubt feeling the uncomfortable jitters that wracked him. "Dean I'm so fucking sorry."

"I uh." Being abruptly yanked from his fury was something Dean wasn't used to. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head and then punched him in the gut. "Shit Ro, I'm sorry too. I lost my fucking cool, big time." he mumbled, feeling ashamed. "I could have really fucking hurt you. Shit. I'm so sorry." Dean dragged his hands down his face. " _Jesus_ fuck, Ro, I gotta' be more careful about this shit."

"You mean _we_ have to be more careful." Roman amended, making Dean give him a quizzical look. "Shit Uce, I set you off. I ought to be able to work with you to figure out how to not do that again."

Dean knelt, his legs suddenly feeling like they would give out. He bumped his forehead into Reigns', baring his teeth. "Roman, I'm gonna' fucking _hurt_ you someday. I'm gonna' slip up and you're gonna' have to put me down." Ambrose looked up, locking his eyes with Roman's confused stare. "I just want you to promise me when that time comes, you won't go easy on me. All of us know I'm a ticking time bomb. I need you to keep everyone else safe when I can't...maintain anymore, okay?"

Reigns began to stammer something out and Dean flat-out _snarled_ at him. " _No_. I need you strong, Ro. You gotta' be decisive when I finally go off the deep end. I'm asking _you_ because I know you're tough enough to incapacitate me. I'm gonna' work on myself, but can I trust you in the meantime in case something goes wrong?"

Dean had to be prepared. His mental state had been fraying for years, but doctors were expensive. It was probably too late for him, anyway. Best that he enjoy his time while he had it, and have someone on hand to take him out when he finally snapped.

"Can I trust you?" Ambrose repeated, watching Roman's brow furrow again.

"You're my Uce, Dean. Anything I would do for my family, I'd do for you." Reigns finally stated firmly. "If this is what you think you need, I'll do my best for you."

To his credit, Roman didn't flinch when Dean extended a hand to help him back up.

…

Roman just had a _hell_ of a match, bodies everywhere and still the Powerhouse standing tall over them. Blood streaked from his mouth down to his jaw, startlingly red. It spattered when he roared in triumph, raising his fists high above his head. Dean knew he was hurting, hurting so bad. It filled him with pride though to watch his partner, his _friend_ slaughter through all of that and still have the heart to unleash that resounding war cry. Rollins cackled and pounded his fists on the barricade, seeming completely amazed that Roman had won.

"Go see him!" he shouted in Dean's ear as Roman left the ring limping. "Make sure he's alright, we'll need him soon!"

In the locker room Dean slammed his forehead into Roman's like Roman had done to him so many times. "You fucking _murdered_ them, Ro! That was fucking _incredible!_ " he laughed breathlessly. The ecstatic grin on his face faded rapidly when Roman's eyes rolled back in his skull and he went boneless against Ambrose.

"R-Roman?" he stammered, terror setting in as Reigns' blood-smeared face pressed into his shoulder. Dean scrambled to lower the other man to the floor, his muscles screaming in protest. "Ro please! Ro!" he begged, cupping Reigns' face in his hands. "Fuck's sake Big Dog it was just a love tap! Please!"

 _I fucking knocked him out. Oh my fucking god, I try to headbutt him **one time** and I knock him out._ Dean muffled a frantic scream with his fist. _He just got whipped to hell and back and I knocked him out. What the fuck is **wrong** with me?_ Dean bolted to his feet. _I need a trainer, a medic. Someone!_

Ambrose avoided Roman for three days after that incident. No easy task, considering they usually roomed together, ate together and trained together.

Dean tried to ignore the way he felt wrong _constantly_ , so wrong without his partner beside him. He caught himself almost sending Roman texts, barely managing to stop in time. It was better that he just cut his cancerous self out of Reigns' life, quickly and efficiently. Roman didn't need someone like Dean as his friend.

He was all rough edges. Full of dog collar matches and gore and sweat, he didn't fucking _deserve_ Roman as a friend. Reigns with that fucking _smile_ and that fucking _hair_ and his fucking. _Kindness_.

They could work together, but their friendship was clearly over. The sooner Dean got that through his head, the better.

"Trouble in paradise?" Seth needled Dean when he caught him shoveling food into his mouth at an ungodly hour of the night in the hotel restaurant/bar.

Dean shook his head stubbornly, slamming yet another piece of pizza down his throat. "Of coursh' not, dun' be a doush'pag bou' it."

"For fuck's sake Dean, I don't need your petty bullshit right now. Reigns is fucking _miserable_ , it's impacting his regiment and I need you guys to put on your big boy trunks and _deal with your shit_." Rollins growled, "I'm not going to suffer because you two want to fuck like rabbits and you've got your straight goggles on, alright?"

Dean damn near choked on his pizza at that, sputtering and taking a huge swig of his beer to wash it down. "Excuse me?" he gasped finally, making Rollins laugh.

It wasn't exactly a kind noise. "You're fucking pitiful sometimes Dean."

"Th' fuck do you even _mean_ , Rollins. We're at odds because I fucking knocked him out. I'm...I feel bad about it, okay? Really bad. You don't know what it was like, man. You didn't see him. He just kind of..." Dean put his face in his hands, inhaling deeply. "He just went...limp. Total ragdoll. It was terrifying. Blood looks fucking _wrong_ on him, y'know? I don't know if he's ever been knocked out before. What if I fucked him up, fucked his brain up?" Ambrose's hands started to shake, tapping against the barely-visible seam of scar tissue on his forehead. "What if he can't do this anymore? What if he's like me-"

" _Dean_." All the flippant attitude had gone out of Seth's voice. He sounded tired now, but more like himself. "Near as I can tell you're the only brain-damaged fuckskull in this group. Now. Go. And. Talk. To. Him."

"He must fucking hate me." Dean groaned.

"Text his ass and get it done, Ambrose." Seth ordered, slapping the other man on the back of the head. "I'd get another pizza and head up with it if I were you. With shrimp on it. You know how it is, 'way to a man's heart is through his stomach'."

Ambrose dithered for a few more minutes after ordering the fresh pizza, his fingers hovering over the screen of his phone.

 _U awake?_ Jesus, what was he, twelve?

 _Roman I have pizza and an apology. Can I come up?_ Better, he supposed, making up his mind and hitting the send button.

He didn't even get his phone back into his pocket before it pinged.

 _UCE!_

Dean's noble resolutions, his vow to extract himself from Reigns' life went to pieces at the sight of that one word. _Brother, he's calling me brother, he can't be mad at me!_ he reasoned wildly, snatching up the pizza and bolting for the lobby. _I'm still Uce. It's gonna' be fine_.

…

"Two of my favorite things!" Roman exclaimed happily, dragging Dean into an overly-fierce hug. He'd missed him over the past few days and he said as much, watching Ambrose flush uncomfortably.

"Shit Ro, I figured you'd be pissed with me." Dean tapped his fingers nervously on the pizza box and stared at the floor, shoving his boot against the thick rug.

Roman wasted no time in whacking his forehead into Dean's, laughing when the other man almost jumped out of his skin. "You clocked me good, yeah, but I was going down anyway Uce. Too much movement too soon, you know how it gets." he grinned, easily resolving what Dean had apparently been hell-bent on making A Big Deal. "I figured you were worried about it. I just didn't want to rush you is all."

 _I definitely haven't been fucking **mooning** around all sad, waiting for you to text me. Or anything_. Roman wanted to laugh at his own thoughts. _Christ I have it bad._

"Yeah, 'worried' is kind of an understatement. I'm glad you're okay, though." Dean mumbled, sounding uncomfortable. "I...you scare me sometimes man. You should be mad at me, Ro. You ought to be upset with me, why the fuck do you forgive me so quick?"

Reigns took Dean's arm and guided him to sit down on the couch. And yeah, his hand might have stayed on Dean's upper arm for a little longer than it needed to. But after three days of nothing but moping and eating his meals alone, Roman hoped Dean would be a bit more lenient. He sat down beside Ambrose, sliding his fingers down to the other man's hand and taking it in his own.

Silvery, barely-visible lines crisscrossed the back of both of Dean's hands, relics of matches Roman had only seen choppy footage of. Ambrose rarely talked about his fights before developmental. But the scars that patchworked his body told an uneasy story. Barbed wire here, the sawblade that dug into his forehead...

Roman remembered how his stomach had turned at _that_ , having to quickly slam his laptop shut and fight a wave of nausea. Brain Damage indeed. He was fucking lucky that his path had never crossed Roman's.

Dean hadn't had an easy life, that much was obvious. He was slow to trust and quick to snap. Roman had honestly been expecting him to hold on a few more days before getting in touch with him, somewhat used to Dean's patterns of self-loathing and willingness to believe that he didn't deserve anything good. He would take the surprisingly out-of-character 'reachout' with no questions though. Ambrose would never learn to deal with himself if he was ridiculed or questioned every time he did something out of the ordinary.

…

Roman seemed lost in thought, staring down at their intertwined fingers. Dean shifted in his seat, feeling more than a little awkward. Reigns had a bad habit of occasionally 'checking out' on Ambrose, not that Dean was in any position to judge.

"Ro?" he began, making Reigns jerk his head back up to look at him. That smile, that fucking smile melted Dean's heart every time.

"Sorry man. Just thinking."

"Yeah, I figured. You still haven't answered my question, though."

Roman sighed, rubbing his thumb across Dean's knuckles. "I don't really have an answer, Uce. Not one that'll make sense, anyway." He raised Ambrose's hand to his lips, pressing an kiss absently to the scarred skin.

Dean sucked in a breath, confused. "Dude, did you just...?"

"Yeah." Roman's eyes had gone hard, clearly waiting for some kind of outburst. His fingers never loosened though, still easily tangled with Dean's.

Ambrose shook his head, that lump in his throat back with a vengeance. "Ro that shit's for soft people. I ain't a soft person. You know that." His laugh faltered a little bit. "I ain't a person who deserves soft things neither, no matter how much I want 'em."

There. He'd said it. Fully indicating that actually, there was nothing he wanted _more_ than the soft-person-shit, _especially_ if it came from the hands of the golden motherfucker himself. Roman's hands didn't look like he'd had a lifetime of awful fucking bullshit to deal with.

Dean wanted it badly. If that was even what Reigns was offering.

Roman's brow had furrowed at Dean's words, creasing a line above his nose. Ambrose scooted closer, knocking his knees into Reigns' and quickly tucking his face into the other man's neck. There was dead silence for a minute as Dean held his breath and Roman went stiff.

The black-haired man finally gave a soft little gasp, wrapping his arms around Dean tightly and keeping him where he was. "Uce," he said. "I can give you the gentle stuff, if you need it. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"So many fucking shit people in my life, Reigns." Dean mumbled against his skin, loving the way Roman hummed at the words. "It'll be a full-time job. But I ain't trying to be a needy motherfucker, y'know? You can back out anytime-"

"Dean." Reigns sounded like his teeth were clenched. "If we're gonna continue this conversation you should probably stop doing that to my neck." He didn't seem upset, though. Embarrassed?

"Aw, someone got a weak spot?" Ambrose teased, giving Roman a nip beneath his jaw. Reigns full-on fucking _whimpered_ at that, making Dean's eyes go wide. "Oh _wow_." he grinned. "No shit, huh?"

Roman grimaced, flushing. "Neck's sensitive."

"No fuckin' joke, Big Dog." Dean chuckled, sneaking a hand up Roman's back to tangle in his hair carefully. He gently tugged, enjoying the way Roman fought briefly against the motion before tilting his head back. "I got you, Uce. If you'll take care of me, I can take care of you."

Ambrose pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to Reigns' neck, luxuriating in the little shudders that wracked the other man. Dean was definitely half-hard in his pants already, hauled there by the noise Roman had made (and was continuing to make, much to Dean's delight). He wondered what Roman got off on, what kinks he had. The possibilities made his head spin.

"Ro, what do you like?" he breathed against Roman's ear.

"You." Reigns answered without missing a beat.

"Fuck's sake, you are one smooth motherfucker." Dean admitted, a little flustered at that. _Wow. No hesitance at all. What have I fucking done to you_. "But I meant more uh...specifically, y'know? Any parts I shouldn't touch? Bedroom etiquette? Wants and needs, that kind of stuff."

"Oh! Oh uh. Um." That fucking blush was back, making Dean want to writhe. Something about worked-up Roman Reigns was absolute torment. "I don't _think_ I have any untouchable areas. We can find out if I do." he said with _that_ smile.

Dean felt his cock begin to press insistently against his zipper.

"I like lots of things in bed! I like when my partner feels safe and cared for, I can be dominant. I've uh...I mean I'm decent with tying people up, if they need it." Roman rubbed the back of his neck. "I try to be versatile, y'know?"

Ambrose couldn't resist leaning in and cupping Roman through his sweatpants. The fucker was hard already, just from the neck mauling. Reigns groaned, panting against Dean's shoulder as Dean _slowly_ stroked up to his stomach, fingers trailing across the skin he exposed by shoving Roman's shirt up. "I meant _you_ , Reigns. What do _you_ like."

"I..." Roman seemed confused.

"What, no one ever asked what the big bad Reigns wants in bed? Everyone just assumes you're the stereotypical top, with the muscles and domination?" Ambrose teased.

Roman's nod came as a surprise to Dean, the other man sliding back a little. "Seriously?" Dean asked incredulously. Another nod. "Well shit. Uh. This night just got a fuck ton more interesting." he grinned, bouncing to his feet and pulling Reigns to stand as well. "C'mon, bed!" Dean said, stumbling as he tried to yank off his shoes. "You're way too fucking cute to be stuck doing all the work Reigns. That's a fucking fact right there."

Roman's laugh was a warm noise to begin with, but now it made Dean feel like he was on fire.

…

"I don't really know what I like, I guess." Roman admitted as he sat on the edge of the bed. It felt weird to say out loud, but it _was_ true. He always wanted his partner to have a good time, and if there was a role he could easily fill then so be it. "I know my neck is really...well, you saw. I must have more sensitive spots but I've never really. _Explored_ , y'know?"

"I am going to fix you like you would not even fucking believe, Reigns." Dean seemed like a kid in a candy store, that maniac gleam shining a little brighter in his eyes.

Roman opened his arms, scooping Dean up and holding him close for a second. "I don't know if you can top how I already feel, Uce, but you're welcome to try."

"Fuck's sake Reigns, I'm trying to get a feel for you, not bust into tears." Ambrose grumbled, letting himself be held anyways. "Alright, enough of this soft stuff. When it's my turn you can lay it on me. But it's _your turn_." Dean's grin was feral as he pushed Roman back into the mattress, running a hand through the other man's hair to keep it from getting pinched under his shoulders. "Let's check out this neck of yours, huh?"

"Oh god." Roman murmured as Dean latched on with teeth and tongue over his jugular. He arched his back, almost dislodging Dean with the motion. "So good so good-" he gasped, reaching down to palm Dean through his jeans. He was rock hard, exhaling a breathy noise when Roman touched him and bumping his hips teasingly against Roman's hand. "Dean can I...?"

"Nope, no way. This is for you, Ro." Dean mumbled against his neck, "hey, think your tat is sensitive too?"

Roman didn't have time to answer as Dean started tracing his tongue over the intricate ink work. The lighter-haired man paused when he got to Roman's shoulder, giving it a few quizzical licks. "Whath thith?" he asked while prodding his tongue across the raised area. "Holy shit Ro, is this a scar? An honest to god fucking..." Ambrose yanked his own shirt off and flopped down on his stomach, pressing one of the many scars on his own shoulder to Reigns' with a grin. "Check it out, man, scar buddies!"

Roman couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. Ambrose just looked so fucking happy. "Yeah Uce. Scar buddies."

" _You're_ a smart fucking cookie Reigns, getting that...whatchamacallit, that pattern tattooed over it." Dean sighed. "I'll need a whole back piece to cover this shit up."

"It's a fala mat, Uce." Reigns gently corrected him. "Kind of a big deal."

"Fuck, right. I'll get that word tattooed on my forehead." Dean's smirk was crooked. "That way I ain't forgetting it again."

"You'd probably get it done backwards."

"Roman Reigns, rewarding my kind gestures with nothing but mockery." Ambrose lazily hooked a leg over Roman and hoisted himself up to straddle him. Roman was surprised when Dean pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and slowly began rocking back and forth.

"Uce..." he groaned, reaching to grab Dean's hips and urge him faster. Dean slid out of reach though, that smirk in full force as he tugged Roman's sweatpants down and started sucking a hickey to life on Roman's hip.

Roman's eyes flew open at the feeling, quickly biting down on his lip to stifle the embarrassing noises he was bound to make. He couldn't help the moan that slipped out when Ambrose continued to trail careful, open-mouthed kisses down the inside of his thigh. Roman's whole body felt too hot, everything that Dean did sending new jolts up his spine. No one had ever...

Roman dragged his fingers through his hair, feeling like some part of him ought to be ashamed because he was enjoying this far too much. Somebody was actually taking the time to map out his body. To fucking _savor_ him instead of requesting that he fuck them into the mattress or the wall or the floor. Roman moaned again, this time a bit louder.

Dean seemed to take it as the go-ahead and proceeded to touch his lips to the base of Roman's cock. The black-haired man hissed out a breath and tried to steady his hips while Ambrose dragged his tongue up the side of his cock. "C'mon Ro," Dean whispered, "lose it for me."

Roman shakily wound his fingers through Dean's hair, Dean's eyes rolling back at (Roman assumed, anyway) the brief spike of pain from the pull. Then, Dean was a purring, sucking mess, taking all of Roman's cock into his mouth without as much as a breath beforehand.

" _Oh_ -!" Reigns gasped, _feeling_ Dean's satisfied mew when he tugged his hair harder. "Oh _god_ look at you. Sucking my dick like it was made for you. You're so good to me Dean, so fucking _good_..." Roman groaned, listening to Dean echoing his noise with a low whimper. "You like the praise, huh? You like being told you're good, so good, you're _amazing_ -" Reigns heard a zipper slide down and he knew he'd struck a nerve.

Roman slid a shaky hand to the base of his cock, feeling the spit slick on his abdomen with a strange thrill. "Hey." he panted, tipping Dean's chin up. "Come up here so I can at least stroke you." Ambrose moaned, not crawling so much as draping himself over Roman, finally ending up on his side with his jeans tight around his thighs. He looked so damn helpless, blue eyes hungrily following Reigns' every move.

"I'm good, right Ro?" he rasped, hiding his face against Roman's thigh afterward. He seemed embarrassed that Roman had found him out so quickly, but also eager. "M' good?"

"God _damn_ Dean, you're amazing." Roman took a deep breath, giving Dean's cock a lazy stroke. "You're beautiful." He bit his lip when Dean carefully shook his head, soldiering on. "Yeah, you are so you'll just have to get used to it."

Ambrose's cock twitched in Roman's hand. He'd had no idea Dean would get this wound up over just being told the truth. Roman briefly wondered what else he could do, how long it would take to kiss every scar on Dean's back. Especially the ones he didn't like to talk about.

"You're so damn beautiful." Roman breathed as he sped up his hand to match Dean's rhythm on his own cock. "You look fantastic like this, all ready to go to pieces with me."

Dean moaned around Roman's dick, reaching down with his free hand to tangle his fingers with Roman's and stroke himself in tandem. He made a choked noise like he had just bottomed out in someone (that noise went _straight_ to Roman's groin, thinking about Ambrose fucking him or maybe vice versa), pulling off Roman's cock for a second to gasp a curt, no-nonsense " _gonna cum_ ".

"God yes, yes please." Reigns had no idea when his fucking _rumble_ had kicked in but there it was, making Dean's eyes go wide. "Cum for me."

Dean's whole body stiffened and he cried out, his release ending up on his stomach and Roman's fingers. Reigns moaned with him, unable to resist the urge to cum any longer after that enthusiastic display from his partner.

Ambrose swallowed everything that he had to give and then slumped onto his back, wheezing a little bit. "Holy fucking shit." he gasped, still wide-eyed.

Roman laughed, just as breathless as Dean. He kicked his sweats off the rest of the way and tossed them across the room, then started fumbling with Dean's tight jeans. "I bet this could be a great way to keep you from having those nightmares, Uce." Panic abruptly broke over him as he remembered something.

"I forgot about the fucking _PIZZA_ , Uce!"

* * *

 **AN:** Hello all! This little monstrosity was inspired by a gif post, created by the incredibly talented ageofambreigns over on Tumblr! I hope you all enjoyed. :)


	4. Chapter 4: Chance

**AN:** Set during recent events (MITB and Battleground 2016). With the proud return of SuperAsshole!Seth. Enjoy this little hunk of not kayfabe at _all_ nonsense!

* * *

Dean rested his forehead on the briefcase, caught in a wave of disbelief as the Universe roared for him, for _him!_ He could hardly breathe.

Mister Money In The Bank. _Him!_

He mugged for a little while at the top of the ladder, smirking down at Cesaro, Del Rio, Owens, Zayn and Jericho all sprawled out beneath him. Then came the slow, sore climb down.

He staggered back behind the curtain, gold briefcase still pressed over his heart. The metal edges of it dug into his ribs uncomfortably but he didn't, _couldn't_ care. Because Roman was standing in front of him, eyes wide and body tense like Dean was the fucking sun, like Dean was amazing and awe-inspiring and it made Dean's heart race even faster.

"Holy fucking _shit_ Uce." The low timbre sent a zing of want through Dean's body, already aching and hard from the match he'd had. There was no denying his kinks and Roman knew that, shouldering him roughly into the wall and kissing him breathless. The briefcase ended up trapped between them, Reigns using his superior weight to force it harder into Ambrose's chest.

" _Wow_."

Dean felt like he ought to cry. So much emotion was twisted up in his lungs and stomach. Roman should be furious with him. Just for winning, winning the shot at threatening his regime. But here he was, giving Dean a hero's fucking welcome.

"I'm so proud." Roman said finally, half-crooning the words into Ambrose's ear and making the lithe man shudder. "You're the only one I'd want with that fucking briefcase, Dean. The only one I trust to give me a good fight."

Dean raised wide eyes to Reigns, startled. He had no idea that was how Roman felt about the match. Roman gave him a grin, cupping his cheek and brushing some of the hair back that was stuck to his forehead. "You make me fucking _proud_ , Uce. I won't let you down, okay? And tonight..." Reigns trailed off, smile softening.

Dean's stomach flipped and he nodded furiously, smiling. _Tonight_.

Roman's match however, didn't go as expected. Dean watched one of the monitors in the back, his heart in his throat as Roman hit Seth with move after move, all desperation and fight. But it wasn't enough, it was never enough for Seth.

Rollins chipped at Roman, slamming into him with the zeal of a man who had been out for months and had an itch to scratch. His flurries of punches and kicks landed with deadly accuracy, wearing Reigns down and forcing him to use more and more energy to keep going.

When Rollins sent Reigns crashing into the steel steps Ambrose had to latch on to his lower lip to keep from yelling. _He's hurt! He's hurt and there's nothing I can do!_ Roman rolled back to his feet, holding his shoulder and grimacing in pain.

Somehow he managed to pull off a _glorious_ Razor's Edge, but Rollins kicked out of the Powerbomb and proceeded to crack Roman's face off the turnbuckle.

The champion was stunned and knocked out of the ring by a zealous series of kicks, then driven twice into the barricade. Both men ended up in a heap outside the ring, chests heaving with exertion.

They traded blows mercilessly, Roman barely managing to reverse out of the Pedigree and catch Seth with a resounding Superman Punch. But it wasn't enough.

Dean got a sinking feeling in his chest.

It was never enough for Rollins.

Reigns finally seemed to crack, falling for Seth's ploy and sending himself head-first into the barricade when Rollins moved out of the way. Ambrose made a helpless noise in his throat, watching the way Roman staggered and gripped the barricade for support when he finally made it back to his feet. _He hit so hard...Roman, please be okay!_

Rollins absorbed the beating from the barely-standing champion once he got him back into the ring, and then finally trapped Roman in the Pedigree, sending the exhausted Samoan crashing face-first into the mat.

Roman lay there, motionless, while the referee counted and...

It was over.

Dean screamed in rage at the monitor, startling the hell out of Sami and Cesaro beside him. He bolted to his feet, briefcase feeling like a lead weight in his hand. Another thing inside him snapped finally, after years and _years_ of dancing on the edge. The last thing he remembered was careening through the curtain; he was pretty sure he came damn close to swinging the briefcase into the referee's head. The rest of it was just flashes.

His muscles crying out in protest from running to the ring _one more fight just one more fight_.

How exhausted and terrified Seth looked when he snapped his teeth wildly at his face _as it should be as it should be_ his brain screamed in triumph.

The way Roman laid on the floor against the commentators table _not Roman not Roman anyone but Roman._

The next thing Dean knew he was back behind the curtain with Roman's arm draped over his shoulder, but instead of a briefcase in his hand...

"What?" he gasped, voice hoarse from overuse as he stared at the belt, stunned. He shoved it into Roman's hands, startled when the man leaning on him gently nudged it back.

"It's yours, Uce." Roman's eyes were sad but he still managed a smile.

"What? _No!_ " Dean snarled. "That's not how...I don't want it, its _yours!_ "

"You won it, Uce. You beat him fair and square, even I saw that." Reigns said softly. "You did good."

" _Ro_ , you gotta' understand, I wasn't _fucking there_. I was...I don't know. I've got nothing. Little bits and pieces." Dean was frantic, fingers white-knuckled on the strap. He didn't want this shit. Roman's emblem on the belt dug into his palm, all polished sharp edges. "Roman I..."

"Hey, hey." Roman hushed him, pushing the hair back from his forehead with that same weak smile. "It's alright, Uce. The important thing is that we're both safe, and Rollins had an even shorter reign than me with Sheamus."

Dean flinched, eyes narrowing as Roman's tear-streaked face came roiling to the front of his mind, after Survivor Series when he was covered in ticker tape and bruises. "That _fucker_."

"Cool it." Reigns sounded weary. "It's one of the reasons I was so happy _you_ got the briefcase."

"I can't. Reigns I..." Ambrose fumbled, the terror setting in as he realized what he'd done. He was the WWE Heavyweight _Champion_. And he had no idea what the fuck he was going to do. "Can't I just tell them I won it for you or something?"

"Real funny Dean."

"I'm _serious_ Roman, I didn't mean to do this! I just-I just snapped. I saw you lose and I..." Dean shook his head as a fresh ache started pounding in his temple. "I can't believe I finally fucking checked out. What the fuck."

"Uce, you weren't 'in there' for any of that?" Roman asked, head lolling back onto Dean's shoulder for a minute.

"Fragments. Shit, I didn't bite him did I? I snapped at him." Ambrose groaned.

"You were on your best behavior." Reigns answered dryly. "After you clocked him in the skull with the briefcase, of course."

"This is _your_ belt!" Dean burst out, finally identifying why he felt so strange about this. "It's _yours_ Roman! You fucking worked for it! You fucking _bled_ for this shit! How the fuck- _why_ the fuck did I do this? What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?!"

"Dean, hey-"

" _No! This isn't mine! I don't fucking_ _ **want**_ _it!_ " Ambrose slapped the belt into Roman's hand, relieved when Reigns curled his fingers around it so it didn't drop to the floor. "Keep it, _please_ keep it!" Dean begged.

"I _can't_ Uce, everyone saw you win it. They'll be coming to swap the plates soon." Reigns' sad smile was eating a fucking hole in Dean's chest. He hated the way it looked on Roman, hated the air of defeat around him.

"I'll tell them...I'll tell them I don't want them to change the plates." Ambrose mumbled, finally coming across an empty chair in the hallway and helping Roman sit. "I'll leave your plates on it. Defend it until you're healed up from this. You gotta' get looked at, Ro. You scared the fuck out of me."

Roman winced. "Yeah, not proud of that fucking hit. I thought I took my head off for a minute."

"If they take you out to heal, I'm not letting go of this fucking belt until you're one hundred percent." Dean promised. "I _ain't_ changing the plates, so you can fuck off!" he raised his voice at the tech who was approaching, making the young man flinch.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ambrose, b-but-"

Dean stalked over to him, rising to his full and terrifying height of six foot four. "I _ain't_. Changing. _The plates_." he snarled firmly.

"I think he'd like to keep them for right now." Roman said quietly, rubbing his forehead. "He'll call you if he changes his mind, okay?"

"O-of course, sorry about that!" the tech was fairly vibrating in fear as he ran back down the hallway.

Roman ' _tsk_ 'ed at Dean, making the taller man turn back to him. "Well you've got the champion _attitude_ already."

"I'm sorry, Reigns. This is all a little...much." Ambrose said with some difficulty. He wasn't exactly used to dealing with this shit.

"I know, Dean. Trust me. Every time you get this strap its like a thousand fucking responsibilities come crashing back down onto you. You get the ecstasy of the win, the triumph and the crowd screaming your name but..." Roman trailed off, rubbing his eyes and heaving in a shuddering breath. "Well, _most_ of us get the crowd screaming their name." he finished, sounding a little bitter.

"Ro, hey, c'mon. You're a fucking amazing champion. Still are in my book." Dean protested, but Roman's tired smile was back.

"I wish you'd been in your head when you won. The place lit up, Uce. It fucking...you did good. They want you." Reigns bit his lip, leaning forward in the chair.

"Roman..." Dean was at a loss for words as he watched Roman's shoulders heave. Reigns was fucking _crying_ again, and it was all his fault. "Uce, hey, please you can't...if you start up I'm gonna' too."

"I can work as hard as I want, y'know? Fight, get hurt, talk, punch, yell. It doesn't fucking matter though. They'll still fucking boo me." Reigns held his battered shoulder, wincing. "It doesn't fucking matter."

"It matters to _me_ , Reigns!" Ambrose said fiercely, making Roman raise his head to look at him. "It matters! _You_ matter! Don't fucking listen to anyone but the people that care about you, okay? I...the only reason I'm _here_ right now is _you_ , so don't you dare say it doesn't matter!"

"Wh-what?" Roman blinked up at Dean, looking confused.

"I wouldn't have made it without you, Roman. Neither would Seth. We would have fucking murdered each other, you know that! You were the glue that held us together, man! Always picking up the slack, leveling us out. You saw me from before, teamwork isn't exactly my forte." Dean snapped. "Don't you fuckin' _dare_ say it doesn't matter."

He swallowed hard, unable to meet Roman's eyes as they filled with tears again. "They roared for you when you Speared the fuck out of Triple H. When you got that belt back from Sheamus they were screaming ' _you deserve it_ '. You and AJ had insane fucking matches, _beautiful_ fucking matches. You're an _entertainer_ , Ro. You put on a damn good fucking show. And...and as long as _someone_ is behind you, you ain't fuckin' alone, alright? I mean, I ain't exactly the most _stable_ motherfucker but for the time being, I ain't been carted off Uce."

"Dammit Dean." Reigns huffed, scrubbing at his face. "I'm already a fucking mess, man. Go easy on me."

"No!" Ambrose yelled. "I won't! I haven't said any of this shit to _anyone_ ever before and _you're_ the one that needs to hear it! You're beautiful, you're smart as fuck and talented, and _strong_ and brave and _everything I ever wanted to be!_ You're what a champion looks like, you're how a champion acts! And now I-" Dean's voice choked off and he blinked, staring at the floor. "Now I'm...now I have to do what you do and I'm terrified, Roman."

"What the fuck, Dean. You've been in fucking _death_ matches, barbed wire shit. You've had belts before." Reigns pointed out, and Dean shook his head.

"It's different Reigns. This is big. _Huge_. Way bigger than anything I've had before. Even when I stole it from Rollins way back when I _knew_ it wasn't mine. I knew I was just a grubby thief. Now it's mine for real and I'm so fucking scared." He ran his hands through his hair, yanking on the ends of it as he started to pace. "What if Rollins tries for it. What if I fucking lose? What if I check out again _and_ lose? They'll throw me into the 'jacket, into the fucking strait again. Nice fucking padded room, for my crazy ass."

Roman caught Dean's knee on his way by, fixing him with a stern look. It was a little softened with his face all puffy from crying, but Ambrose still felt his insides twist. "Dean. Please. You're burning through all three of those valuable brain cells you have." His smile, his _real_ smile broke free after a few seconds of silence and Dean relaxed, smiling back.

"Fuck ya', Uce. I'm down to one and a quarter."

…

The news of Roman's suspension hit Dean like a sack of bricks. Reigns watched warily as Dean snarled and slammed the closet door a few times in frustration. "Hey, Uce, it's okay." he tried to comfort him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

But Dean shrugged it off, infuriated. " _Why?!_ " he yelled.

"I got a nasty concussion, Uce. You saw that shit. I know I'd fail the impact test if they gave it to me. I'll just take the suspension for refusing the test instead of whatever they'd do to me if I failed." Roman's weak smile was back, and Dean felt the all-too-familiar jolt of guilt down his spine.

He _hated_ that smile.

This was so much crap all at once, piled high on Roman's plate. The thought forced the lighter-haired man to calm down somewhat, and he bumped his forehead against Roman's shoulder.

"I'm...I'm sorry Ro. This is awful." he mumbled. "I want to help. You've been so good to me, man. How do I help you?"

"Hang onto that belt, Uce." Roman said firmly. "You keep it safe. Slap Rollins around with it a few times. Make him regret having it even for a second." He gently raised Dean's face so he could look him in the eye. "Hold court in your fucking asylum and make him _pay_."

Roman had a way of infusing his words with steel. Dean shuddered as his voice washed over him. "I'm scared, Ro." he admitted, fidgeting when Roman let go of his chin.

"You're always going to be scared. But being brave isn't about being fearless. It's about shoving past that and getting your shit _done_. I have faith in you, Dean. You're my brother. You're the man that I...you um. I want you to stay safe." Roman stuffed his hands into his pockets.

They did this a lot, this...dancing around words. They'd been exclusive for months, and hanging out as friends for way longer. Dean couldn't understand why the idea of saying some punk words to Roman sent his heart slamming in his chest. They were just _words_ , dammit.

…

Thirty days without Roman had been...well. Saying they were difficult would be putting it mildly. And now, with his heart in his throat and that belt strapped heavily around his waist, Dean stared both Roman and Rollins down after he stepped into the ring.

He saw the way Reigns looked at him, could see the smile that the man couldn't let out at the moment crinkling around those gray eyes. Dean could also feel the simmering fury coming off Seth in waves, watching the way his fists clenched and unclenched rapid-fire at his sides. The younger man was probably livid at the fact that Reigns was even here tonight, never mind that he was contending for the belt.

The Shield. Brothers once, all three champions former and current. Tonight would decide whether Rollins was right for shattering them, whether he really was the " _best for business_ " like he claimed. Tonight would decide whether Reigns gave a _fuck_ about what anyone thought, or whether he was " _The Guy_ " regardless of who loved _or_ hated him.

Tonight...

Tonight would reveal to Dean himself whether he had earned his own set of plates ( _champion material_ ), or whether he was still just some lovestruck lunatic hanging onto his brother's belt.

Rollins mouthed " _welcome back Big Dog_ " at Roman with a sneer on his face, and Roman flat-out _snarled_ at him. Ambrose raised his eyebrows, startled. Roman didn't usually...

Seth held out his clenched fist between the two other men, looking back and forth at them with something akin to glee. Dean's teeth grit together as he fought the urge to bite Seth's fingers off. He saw Roman's jaw tense and knew that his brother was having a similar problem.

A thousand thoughts bubbled up. So many times they'd been in the ring as allies, compatriots. Clashing with whoever dared to stand in their way and more often than not emerging victorious. But now, here was the source of their contention, their implosion.

Standing there, begging for a fistbump.

Like he _deserved_ it, big happy grin on his face as he waited. Dean could hardly blame Reigns for snarling.

The bell rang and before Seth could react, Reigns shoulder-checked him right to the mat. Ambrose whooped in delight and went after Roman, smiling at the other man as they brawled. _This is how it should be_ , he thought. _This is how I wanted it to be. Thank you, Roman._

Reigns was holding back, Dean realized after the large man had turned _away_ from Rollins to make sure 'The Lunatic' would land safely when he bounded from the top rope. Dean knew exactly how strong Roman was, so he didn't understand why he wasn't giving it his all. He practically _let_ Seth and Dean Powerbomb him through that table and just laid there, like it had been an earth-shattering landing. Like he hadn't stopped Dean moments earlier with nothing but his chest and a grunt. Like he hadn't lifted Seth up and over him, fighting _through_ the Pedigree which had put him down the last time they'd had a match.

Dean didn't see the chair coming, the hit knocking the wind out of him and making his back scream in agony. He staggered, brain clawing for a grip on reality as the memory eagerly surged forward.

 _Seth's cackle ringing in his ears the sound of Roman choking while Orton crushed the top of the metal chair into his throat the iron taste in his mouth from biting his tongue the ache for breath in his lungs the Universe screaming abuse at Seth when Dean couldn't his brother his **brother** why-_

Something, one more thing made a dull snapping noise in the back of Dean's skull, Rollins grabbing him by the scruff of his neck before Dean fully realized he'd sunk to his knees. He was drifting, barely there and rolled back into the ring mostly by Seth's insistent shoving. _He's not **worth it**._ The thought surprised Dean. He clung to it while he endured the ferocious onslaught from Seth.

 _Not worth it_.

Reigns was there, _somehow_ he was there between the two of them on the ropes in the corner and Dean was launched onto his back. He laid there for a second, the wind knocked out of him.

 _Rollins ain't fuckin' worth it_.

Rollins took Reigns' boot to his chest for his trouble, then Roman flipped him up for a devastating Powerbomb from his shoulders.

 _Roman is worth it_.

They grappled back and forth, blows landing between the three of them with little coordination. Reigns grabbed Ambrose like he was going to Powerbomb him, gasping " _lift your hips!_ " and deliberately overshooting at the last second to drop him back onto his feet. Dean snagged both of Roman's arms, backsliding the larger man over him and jamming his shoulders down onto the mat for a pin. Reigns twisted away though, laughing breathlessly as they chopped and jabbed at one another.

 _Roman is worth it._

Roman took the full force of Seth's next Pedigree but somehow, _somehow_ managed to get one of his shoulders up. Seth was _furious_ , yelling at the referee while he got to his feet and sized up Roman's limp form. Dean stumbled back to his feet, gripping the apron for dear life as he watched Reigns lift Seth even with his arms trapped in the Pedigree.

 _Oh my **God** , is he worth it._

When Dean flung himself back into the ring to break Roman's pin, he knew this was it. This was the moment, the do-or-die, and if he didn't say it now...

His hands dug beneath Roman's shoulders, hauling the battered man forward into his body. Protecting Roman's break-prone nose by propping the other man's forehead against his bicep, Dean sent them both crashing down into the mat with Dirty Deeds.

" _Uce-_ " Reigns choked out as Ambrose pinned him.

" _I love you_." Dean said with his cheek pressed to Roman's chest, stunned when Reigns stayed down.

The bell rang and Ambrose knew he had retained the belt, but he took a brief moment to relish the look of wonder on Roman's face. "I'm still the champ." Dean panted. He rolled onto his back while Seth shrieked in rage and began pitching a tantrum, the canvas shaking with his wrath. "Holy shit, Ro. Thank you."

"Am _brose!_ " Seth screamed, stomping his feet. "You piece of _shit!_ You and your _knuckledragging gorilla_ of a boyfriend just-"

Dean's hearing checked out and his vision went white-hot for a second, some rational part of him noticing that Reigns was blinking back tears. This had still been a loss for him, no matter what happened. And the consequences were sure to be severe. Ambrose got to his feet slowly, trying to calm his breathing as Seth shook the ropes. It would be pretty poor form if he ended up murdering the shit out of Rollins at the very start of the brand split. Newsworthy, but poor form.

The resounding slap across the face he delivered stunned the Universe (and Seth) silent. " _You_. Don't talk about _anyone_ that way." Dean growled furiously. " _Ever. Again._ "

"Uce, I think someone's here to see you." Reigns' jaw was tense, but then he grinned up at Ambrose. The Smackdown locker room flooded the ring and Dean laughed when he saw Tyler Breeze and Fandango 'assist' Seth in his escape from the squared circle.

Over the top rope.

…

"Did...did you really mean what you said back there?"

Dean had been waiting all night for this, if he was being honest. He knew that Roman would be unsure, probably thinking that Dean had just said what he did to shock Reigns into not moving long enough to pick up the win.

Ambrose turned to look at the other man, watching the way his hands fumbled nervously with his hair. "Why'd you pull your punches?" he asked instead. Dean patted the belt around his waist. "You get tired of the big, shiny W?"

Roman looked ridiculously guilty, like he couldn't believe Dean had caught him. "I don't know what you're talking about-" he began.

Dean held up a finger, grinning at the other man. "You'd better make Rollins' life _hell_ over on Raw, you got it? I expect at least _three_ explosive suitcases. More popcorn dumped over that greasy head of his. And," he paused, sliding a hand through Roman's hair to grip it at the roots and tip Reigns' head to the side. "I expect you to not only _believe_ what I said in the ring, but _also_ kiss the fuck out of me."

"Or," Roman gasped against his mouth. "how about I just fuck the kiss out of you?" His lips curled into a smirk when Dean sputtered out a laugh and shoved him.

"You fucking...yeah, alright, get over here."


	5. Chapter 5: Affection

**!TRIGGER WARNING!:** Contains brief sexual abuse and allusions to coercion/blackmail for sexual favors. This is blatant, gratuitous hurt/comfort. Enjoy!

* * *

The nightmares come after hard days. Exhaustion sets into his bones, any flat surface looks like a bed to him and as soon as Dean lays down, he's out like a light.

It creeps in. Not that his dreams are that good to begin with. If he even dreams at all, it's mundane shit like having a family or matches that go without a hitch. It oozes into the cozy living room of his mind, the wrestling ring surrounded the swirling masses of an ever-changing Universe.

Paint starts to peel. The voices down the hallway get louder and louder, the lights above him fade to sickly florescent. His chest tightens and then everything explodes outwards as the door at the end of the hall bursts open.

The staples slam into his skull in an ugly row and Dean is screaming in pain and flailing against the faceless doctor or the medic with the fucking dead eyes. The door cracks against his head over and over, the maniac laughter of whatever boyfriend Mom had kept around _this_ time ringing in his ears.

In the nightmare he's never big enough, tough enough to take the beating or patch-up they dish out. Relentless fists landing again and again, that steel-toed boot crashes into his stomach and he finally startles awake in the phantom-pain haze that's all too familiar.

Daylight is always so far away when Dean wakes up shaking and sweaty with his throat raw.

It only became a _real_ problem after he and Roman began rooming together because apartments are fucking _expensive_ when you're on your own. Roman was nice, too nice. Damn near flawless, smart, funny.

And Dean was finding it more and more difficult to keep up a decent sleep pattern, or even the facade of one. Every day was a hard day in developmental. Everyone asking _everything_ you could give and more. And yeah sure, he'd been in _death matches_ before so he wasn't exactly expecting a cakewalk. But no one in a death match would have been disappointed if he had a sloppy pin. Getting hurt went hand in hand with his work, his style. Here was different. Shit, when he'd gone shirtless in the practice ring against Roman one of his first days there, he'd startled a surprised shriek out of Rollins.

" _What the_ _ **fuck**_ _Ambrose, your back looks like hamburg!_ " the two-toned man had pointed out (literally, he jabbed at Dean with his finger damn near hard enough to poke a hole through the fabric of reality).

Roman had huffed at the younger man. " _Easy man, take that shrill shit down about a_ _ **thousand**_ _notches._ " His look had been wary when he focused on Dean, who had flushed uncomfortably and started struggling back into his shirt. " _You're just gonna' sweat through it man, leave it off._ " Roman squared up. " _We need to practice if this is going to happen._ "

Roman made himself easy to be around as part of a sinister plot to get Dean to fall for him, Dean was sure of it. Always sparring with him, always ready with a comment to take the heat off Dean when someone mentioned how exhausted he was or how hard he was sweating.

Reigns didn't know about the nightmares. He didn't need to know. He could think insomnia or sleep paralysis or whatever the hell he needed to think. Dean didn't need Roman to know about the never-ending shitshow of misaligned metal in his scalp, didn't want him to think any fucking less of him ( _if that was even possible_ ).

...

But the best laid plans of one guy from Ohio go oft a-fucking-wry, and Dean is shaken awake one night with the screams still in his throat and his heart pounding frantically in his chest and he knows, he _knows_ he shouldn't but he just _swings_ with all his might and…

And.

Roman goes down hard, devastatingly hard. Because Reigns isn't expecting to be attacked like Dean constantly is, isn't ready to dodge the blows before they're thought of or latch his teeth onto someone's hand to keep their fingers from curling into a fist.

Roman's never had to fight like Dean's had to fight.

Reigns grunts, rubbing the back of his head from where it had knocked against the wall. "Jesus man. You pack a fuckin' wallop." His voice is still deep with sleep and he sounds more than a little out of it. But he's not hitting Dean back.

Ambrose feels like his stomach has dropped out of his body, he feels like he's going to puke or cry and he _can't_. Not in front of Roman. "Roman I–"

"It's alright man. You were just kinda' loud." Roman is flat-out _unsteady_ when he stands, a hand still pressed to the back of his head.

Dean's skin crawls in guilt and fear; what the fuck has he _done_. Roman puts his other hand down on the bed momentarily, breathing out quick and hard. "Damn."

"Roman-"

"Just. Gimme' a sec." Roman manages, looking significantly worse for the wear. "Head ain't doing so good."

"Roman for fuck's sake." Dean yanks the sheet and blankets out of the way, off the side of the bed. "Sit the fuck down before you toss everywhere."

Roman sits quickly, grimacing and rubbing his temples. He doesn't seem phased by the blow to the chest that was hard enough to knock him on his ass, but the wall clearly did a number on him. "Dean, are you alright?"

Ambrose wants to hit him again. " _Reigns_. Are you for fuckin' real right now."

"You've been having sleeping issues, man. I'm not blind. And this." Roman taps his chest with a wince.

Ouch. Okay, he's just good at _acting_ like shit didn't hurt. Dean ignores the implications of _that_ for a minute, chewing the current situation over in his mind. The last thing Reigns needed was another thing from him to pay attention to. "Just uh. It's not a big deal, Roman. Don't worry about it, okay?"

The look Roman gave him made Dean well aware that he wasn't buying whatever bullshit Dean was selling, but Reigns got to his feet after a moment. "Okay Uce."

 _Uce?_ Dean latches onto the unfamiliar word, his brain mentally curling around it.

"If you think you're okay, I'm gonna' get back to bed. Sleep good, alright?" Roman rests a hand heavily on Dean's shoulder for a second. Dean wants to cry again, swallowing the lump in his throat to choke out a _yeah, you too man._

He's startled when Roman presses his lips to the top of his head absently, like he's a little kid or something. Oh god, he's going to cry, he's going to cry in front of his roommate. Dean manages _somehow_ , through willpower or some smaller, grungier emotion that suits him better, to not burst into tears.

Before Roman is safely down the hall where he can't hear him sob.

Affection was…strange for Dean. He'd received so little of it growing up that a lot of times the displays people made...caught him off guard, left him with a bad taste in his mouth. Regal knew, Dean was sure of it. Knew how Dean's stomach twisted with a strange mix of hate and want when he saw two people hug without flinching.

" _It's alright, you know_." Regal had commented once, standing beside Dean while he was watching Roman and Seth grapple. " _The way you get. It's to be expected._ "

It sounded so grim when he said it like that. _Expected_. Like Dean was always going to be fucked up over it. Like he didn't have a choice. In a way…he kind of didn't. But in a way Dean wanted to slam his fists into a wall until they broke, the wall broke, everything broke. Because he hated feeling helpless, hated feeling that there was nothing he could do about this.

Roman is back in his doorway for _whatever_ reason, and Dean is horrified when he realizes that Roman is _staring_ , he's gawking and _oh god_ there's tears all down Ambrose's cheeks and neck and he's still sniffling and _oh fuck_ –

Reigns moves surprisingly quick for someone built like a tank. Huge arms wrap around Dean and his nose is half-crushed against Roman's chest, the larger man all but hauling Dean into his lap. "I've got you Uce. It's alright." A hand strokes the back of Dean's hair, stirring… _something_ in him. A memory, maybe.

Dean's face crumples and he tucks it in deeper, tears staining Roman's shirt. The apologies are coming from him whether he wants them to or not and he feels Reigns shake his head. "You're doing nothin' wrong Uce. It's okay. You're okay."

Dean barely bites back a hysterical laugh at _that_ statement, because really he's the furthest fucking thing from okay right now. He's exhausted and his achy body is taking interest because _someone_ is showing him affection and it's so, so fucking _embarrassing_. Enough that he pulls away from Roman, rubbing at his eyes.

Reigns looks worn-out himself, picking a hair tie up off the bed by Dean's knee. "Forgot this." he said by way of explanation. "Dean, I–"

"Sorry. Kind of a breakdown. I'm okay now." Dean was too cheery, he knew he was. But he couldn't have Roman thinking that he needed him like this. He was relieved when Reigns stood again, the tattooed man rumpling his hair.

"Gave me a scare, man. I know, sometimes they suck." Roman's eyes look unfocused for a second but then he's back. "You're a tough bastard, Dean. You don't have to do it alone okay?"

Dean knows he shouldn't laugh but it comes out anyway. An ugly, jagged noise. Roman's eyes narrow. "How long has this been going on, Ambrose?"

 _Ambrose_. Ow. He's been taken down to last name status. Barely an acquaintance. Dean waves off the question, breaking eye contact. "I'm okay, man."

"That fucking sound you just made isn't anything 'okay' people make. _How long?_ "

"Months, shit, I don't fucking know." Dean flounders, taken aback by the concern in Roman's voice. "It's not a big deal, dude."

" _Dean_."

"A while, okay?! It's been a while. It's. Regularly. At least once I settled into a schedule." Dean wants to keep brushing him off, wants to stop talking. But he's just so damn tired. "I get wiped, man. So fucking exhausted. And I can't fight them anymore." he says finally.

"So don't."

Dean counts himself lucky that he doesn't have the energy to roll his eyes. "Shit, if only _I'd_ thought of that!" he snaps, sarcasm so thick he's surprised he can't collect it out of the air between them.

Roman holds out a placating hand, seeming to understand he should have phrased that better. "Let me help, Dean,"

His words have Dean reeling, the hostile Mox response fighting free before he can stop it. "What th' fuck're _you_ gonna' do 'bout this shit?"

"Try to fix it."

Reigns is a straightforward kind of guy, Dean knows that. He's seen a lot of problems that could be solved by going around them instead be slammed into headlong by well over two hundred pounds of godlike stubbornness. Some days he admires Roman's tenacity. Other days it's a pain in the fucking ass.

"And how the hell do you plan to do that?" Dean asks warily. Roman looks fucking _soft_ , all sleepy still and hair messy and…

Oh no.

Oh _no_.

"Whoa hey man, what are you doing?" Dean panics when Reigns sits down and wraps his arms around him again. Roman hushes him, that hand back at stroking his hair. Not entirely against his will, Dean goes limp.

"Let me fight 'em off for a little while, Uce. Rest easy." Roman murmurs.

"What the fuck." Dean grunts into Roman's chest, careful to keep his voice down lest he piss him off.

And maybe he dozes off too easy. It's entirely possible. And maybe Reigns is comfortable to hug, warm and fucking _radiating_ care and worry and it's _not fair_ , not fair that he's so kind. Dean decides, right there, drifting between awake and asleep that…that Reigns needs protection.

He's too _good_ , too good to be busting up his body in shit like football and wrestling for whatever reasons. " _I'm going to make my family proud_ ", Roman had said _way_ more than once with a stern look on his face. What fucking family wouldn't be proud of the fact that one of their sons had a heart of fucking gold, one that hadn't been fucking ruined by whatever was thrown at him yet.

 _You've fucked me up, big guy. More than I already was, I guess._

 _Thanks._

…

He should have known that people like Reigns tend to attract dicks. Both literal and figurative, in this instance. Rollins always had to be in control, and Roman wasn't big on saying no if he thought he was helping.

But the bruises on Reigns' neck were _real_ fucking obvious today.

Dean grinds his teeth at the thought of what Rollins had done _now_ , feeling damn useless as he and Roman warm up. The other man is wincing too often, too often, and it's setting off warning bells in Dean's head.

"He _forget_ to stretch you or somethin', Reigns?" he grunts, keeping his voice low. Roman's head jerks up and he looks at Ambrose all wide-eyed; something in Dean's chest twists violently. "You know you owe him nothin', right? He ain't payin' your fuckin' way, man. _You_ are."

Roman snaps his eyes back down to his hands. "Don't worry about me, Dean. I can take care of myself." His grin does nothing to calm Dean's worries when it's framed by those god awful finger marks on his neck.

Not that Dean hasn't left (and received) his fair share of hickeys, but these are full-blown _bruises_ , and thinking about Rollins touching Reigns like that makes his stomach queasy. Maybe he's jealous. Oh he's _definitely_ jealous, but it's more than that. _No one_ should touch Roman with intent like that. Outside the ring, anyhow.

Creative wanted them as a team, and Dean is willing to bet that Rollins was touting whatever the fuck he's doing to Roman as _team building_ or some shit. Reigns would go for that. Reigns just wanted to succeed. He'd always say " _by any means necessary_ " but Dean knew better. Roman is a goddamn sap. He would have gotten eaten alive in CZW.

Not that a slow death by Rollins was any kinder.

More than anything Dean wants thirty minutes in one of his old rings with nothing but Seth and his favorite toys. He can practically _hear_ Moxley voicing his disapproval of the situation, " _you gonna' let 'im treat ya_ _ **boyfriend**_ _like that, pissy bitch?_ "

Maybe it wasn't Moxley. But he wasn't him anymore, now was he.

Dean understands he shouldn't do anything in the practice area. The smirk Rollins sends him is bait, it's fucking bait and he knows it. Rollins _has_ to realize he isn't stupid, despite his…quirks. Rollins cannot be this fucking dumb, this fucking oblivious.

 _I_ _ **know**_ _you're hurting him!_ Dean bites the words back; ducks his head to focus on taping up his hands.

…

It all boils over when Ambrose walks in on them in the locker room. Late-night training had helped Dean immensely as far as sleeping went, and he'd seen less and less of Roman over the weeks. The worry ate at him like a fucking _rat_ , though, as well as the futility of his promise. If he never _saw_ Reigns aside from practice, how the fuck was he supposed to protect him?

 _Why does he come home so late? Why not just stay over if they're fucking? What the fuck is Seth_ _ **doing**_ _to him?_

Dean's just shucking his sweaty shirt over his head when he notices a phone he recognizes, sitting on the bench opposite him with a towel and bag he _also_ recognizes. He grins to himself, taking Seth's fancy, sleek phone and tucking it into his pocket. _Score, you douchebag. Good luck without_ –

He hears a weird noise, almost like a sob. Crying is never a good sound to hear in a locker room, and this late at night…?

The noise comes again and something in Dean's brain clicks and he's _flushing_ , furious red. Because that _isn't_ a sob. And he's willing to bet he knows exactly who just made that noise.

" _Shhh, you gotta' be quiet Romie. Don't want your dad to see those pictures, right?_ "

That _weasel_.

" _Look at how good you take this cock down that throat, huh? Don't–_ " the word is punctuated with the sound of a slap. " _–act like you didn't ask for this, Reigns._ "

Moxley is whipping around the corner of the lockers before he even registers his body is moving, slamming open the first closed shower stall door he sees. The scene is bad, it's real fucking bad, and Mox snaps his teeth.

Seth's got that filthy, disgusting cock of his in Roman's mouth with his hands wrapped tight around Roman's throat. White fingers squeeze violently against that tanned throat over the old bruises and Dean's screaming in outrage in the back of Mox's head and the _noises_ from Reigns are not something he ever wants to hear again. Seth doesn't even stop, hardly pauses in his tempo. Just turns and shoots Mox a wink.

A fucking _wink_.

Moxley slides his tongue across his teeth, finding more than he remembers having and slowly debating his options. He deliberately ignores Reigns, doesn't want to make eye contact to bring Dean back to the surface. This shit is bad enough without all the bleeding heart crap.

"What th' fuck," Mox drawls, leaning against the wall and propping his foot up. "d'you think you're fuckin' doin', 'zactly?" He holds up a hand to stop whatever Seth is going to say, "Shut th' fuck up. Don't actually wan' an answer." His brow furrows, ease abruptly gone from his body with Dean's caterwauling about Roman getting louder and louder. His hand lashes out and grabs Seth's wrist, tight enough that he feels the bones in it slide and grind together.

Seth's yelp of pain and fear is music to his ears. Dean calms somewhat.

"Pretty boy, y' got 'bout two minutes b'fore I get let offa' the leash n' fuck ya up. Got it? So how 'bout you get that _piss-poor_ excuse f'r a dick outta' m' boy's mouth. Oth'wise, m' gonna' do som'thin' that _you're_ gonna' regret." Moxley doesn't remember his voice being quite so smooth. Dean must have abandoned the cigarettes. Fucking wellness policies and shit.

"Alright man, alright. Take it easy, okay?" Rollins whimpers, the typical bully once he's called on it. Mox grunts, still refusing to look at Reigns. He'll let Dean back out once Seth's gone packing.

"You'd be'er fig're outta' way t' put your clothes on one-handed, kid. You're down t' thirty seconds." Moxley leans in close, _real_ close like he used to do, and shows his teeth. "An' I expect ya t' _never_ _touch him again_."

"Oh God, oh God please let me go, I promise, I promise I won't–" Seth pleads, tugging at his wrist in Moxley-Dean's iron grip.

Mox releases him after a tense second, jerking his chin. "Ten seconds. Get th' fuck outta' m' sight, y' fuckin' _waste_."

Dean claws free once Rollins has bolted (damn near cracking his two-toned skull open on the floor when he slips and stumbles in his haste to escape) and kneels beside a shaking Reigns. "Ro, buddy, please…gotta' talk to me man." Moxley's voice is still rough in his throat when he pleads and Dean swallows back furious tears when Roman shakes his head, arms wrapped around himself.

"Ro I'm so sorry. M' so fuckin' sorry, please–" Dean's cut short by a sobbing cough from Reigns.

"Shouldn't be so fucking d-dumb." Roman's face is a damn mess, red on one side from that slap, eyes all teary and hair yanked out of his elastic wrong wrong _wrong_ and it shouldn't bother Dean, this shouldn't be what he focuses on because it's not fucking _important_ right now. "I'm so fucking _dumb_ , A-Ambrose. Don't…please don't." He flinches away when Dean reaches for him, and it hurts because Dean knows, he _knows_ this feeling. Like it's burrowed under your skin and you'll never get it off and _everyone_ can see.

"Reigns…" Dean drops his arms, rests his fingertips on Roman's knees and just…sits while he cries. "I'm sorry it took me so long." he says softly after several minutes. Reigns gives no indication that he's heard him and Dean continues, "I'm so sorry that I fuckin' failed you man. I should have said something. Those bruises on your neck…"

"He's gonna' show my dad. He's gonna' show my dad, my parents will know–" Roman gasps out, fisting his hands in his hair.

"What's he got on you, Reigns?" Moxley is snapping at the surface again and Dean barely gets him to back down in time. "What the fuck did he do to you?"

"Pictures, videos–" Roman keens wordlessly for a minute, the noise fucking heart-wrenching and so unbearably _sad_ that Dean feels his tears well back up, even as he fights with his pocket.

"They're all on here, right?" he asks softly, holding the phone out to Reigns. Roman's eyes go wide, wide as dinner plates and he carefully scoops the phone up from Dean's hands like its a small animal he's afraid of crushing.

"O-Oh my God." Roman breathes, quickly tapping in the unlock code and sighing heavily as he scrolls through the pages. "Jesus…Jesus Christ he took way more than I knew. Oh my God."

"Delete 'em. Get them gone. Take 'em off his…whatever the fuck, sky-cloud thing. I don't want him to be able to use you ever again." There's something fierce in Dean's chest that he faintly recognizes as Roman taps over the pictures with shaking hands. "Once you make sure they're gone for good, we'll nuke that thing."

"Dean I'm so–"

"Don't you _dare_ apologize for this shit." Dean's fingers drum nervously on the tile floor of the shower. "This is entirely on him. Get that crap deleted and then we're gonna' head home and get some food into you, okay?"

Roman glances up at him, eyes full of tears again and Dean wants to _murder_ Rollins. Reigns quickly ducks his head, mumbling something about how _I'll be okay_ –

" _Reigns_." Dean taps the top edge of the phone. "You're my roommate. Not only that, you're my best, _best_ fuckin' friend. I _love_ you, man. Do you want to shower here or at home?"

"Home, home. Please. Let me just…I have to wash my face. Get this taste out of my mouth." Roman says softly.

And if Dean crushes the phone a little harder than he needs to on the pavement outside the facility, well, it's not as if it would matter to anyone.

…

Roman's nightmares start almost immediately. Dean gets maybe a week of quiet nights and then he's awoken by Roman crying and begging, loud enough that he can hear it in his room down the hall. He bolts out of his bed, yanking on his boxers and then running down the hall.

In retrospect he probably shouldn't have tried to open the door quite so vigorously. Probably also shouldn't have slammed his head into it with his momentum like a goddamn overexcited lanky dog on a hardwood floor.

When he comes back around Reigns is leaning over him, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his forehead. "Shit Dean, I'm so sorry." Roman apologizes, "I put a chair in front of the door because it doesn't lock."

"I knew that." Dean mutters, head still a little fuzzy. "You were cryin'. You okay?" Alright, maybe he's a bit worse at this comforting stuff.

Roman shrugs, and he gets _that look_ on his face. That kind of… _far away_ look. "I'll be fine."

"Oh no no no." Dean growls, shoving Roman's hand away and getting to his feet. "You've been goddamn driftin' ever since what happened. You helped me when I was havin' my issues. Let me help, man."

"Seriously Dean, I'll be alright." Roman's sad, he's so fucking sad and he's hurting and _God fucking dammit_ Dean is so ready to be done with this fucking hardass bullshit.

" _Reigns_." His hand ghosts over Reigns' neck, doesn't actually press down but it's enough to make Roman's breathing stutter. Dean hears that and his eyes half-lid. "What do you need, Roman?" he asks softly. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing." Roman replies just as quietly.

Dean chokes out a laugh. "That's a lie and you fuckin' know it Reigns. Let me help you, dammit."

"You want to help? You really want to help? Because I'm a goddamn mess right now Ambrose and I'm not entirely sure that you're going to make anything better." Roman snaps and Dean's _had it_.

"Oh you want to fuckin' _bet?_ " Ambrose growls, hand landing firm on Roman's wrist. Not enough to hurt, not enough to bruise. Just enough to know that he's here. "C'mon. I'm not soft like you but if you'll accept these goddamn angles in my bed I imagine yours will be just fine." He hauls Roman almost bodily to the bed, taking a risk and urging him to lay down.

Dean tucks Roman's face into his chest like Roman has done for him so many times, arms tight around him as the tears come. "You're going to be fine, you tough son of a bitch." Dean murmurs, kissing Roman's forehead. "You're gonna' be alright. You cry until you're empty. It's gonna' hurt for a while, Reigns. I want to fucking kill him for what he did." Dean sighs heavily. "You're a damn beautiful, kindhearted motherfucker and while _no one_ deserves this shit, you of all people deserve it the least."

Roman says nothing, just digs his fingers into Dean's back a little harder and sobs. Ambrose shushes him, gently running his hands over his body. He cups Roman's throat and presses a kiss to the barely-healed bruises. Reigns makes a _different_ noise at that and it catches Dean off guard.

" _Oh._ "

It's a mixture between a sigh and a groan and Dean is a little worried that he's hurt him but soldiers on, trailing more kisses down his throat. Roman's whole body goes tense. "It's alright, you're alright…" Dean whispers the words against his skin, mouths them over the ugly marks. Roman deserves every ounce of patchwork affection he can scrape up, everything that Dean has to give.

"Why are you like this?" Roman whispers and Dean jerks his head up, confused.

"Like what?"

"I mean, you're above me. You can…you can do whatever you want, Dean. Why are you even bothering with this?" Roman's own confusion is evident. "You know I'm easy. Why–"

"Don't you _ever_ say that shit." Dean growls, lacing his fingers through Roman's and pressing him onto his back. Roman just blinks up at him, and the flinch he tries to hide when Dean ducks his head again makes Dean want to go to pieces. Dean bites his lip and presses his mouth to the bruise on Roman's arm. The bruise on his stomach. The matching ones on his hips.

Roman is panting beneath him and all Dean can think about is how _wrong_ it is that he's banged up like this; it's obviously _close_ to whatever Roman was looking for but all twisted by Seth. "You need someone to muscle you around, right Reigns?" he says finally, looking up at Roman. Reigns flushes under his gaze and Dean's heart clenches. "But not like Seth. I ain't talkin' like that. I'm talkin' the right way." he continues, sliding a finger under the waistband of Roman's boxers and tugging them down his hips.

Roman covers his face as Dean looks down at him, a little surprised at the fact that Reigns is half-hard already. "I know, I know. It's just because I was touchin' you, big guy." Dean soothes, barely recognizing his own voice when he says that. It's dropped to a raspy purr and Roman shifts his hips beneath him. "No shame in that Ro, c'mon. I'm here for _you_ , okay. Like Seth ought to have been. You're such a good boy, Reigns." Dean knows it's a gamble to say but when Roman's body trembles he figures he's picked the right words. "I already know you're obedient, Ro. Seth knew too, and he took advantage of your goodness. But I will _never_ do that."

"M' dirty." Roman groans.

" _No._ You're good, so fucking good. _He's_ the dirty one." Dean insists, pressing another kiss to an angry hickey on Roman's inner thigh. _Jesus Christ, what part of you didn't he bite._ "I love you _because_ you're good, Roman. I've associated with enough shit people in my life to know decency when I see it. You held me when I was a shakin' mess, comforted me and kept the heat off me when most guys would have just given up."

"Y…you love me?" Roman's voice sounds so small for someone his size as he peeks out from between his fingers at Dean. "I…how?"

Dean grins up at him. "That look on your face is more than enough payment for the walkin' fuck festival my life has been, Reigns. Let me take care of you, okay? Get that fucker out of your head for a little while."

Roman's hands shakily end up on Dean's shoulders when the other man strokes him to full hardness and presses a kiss to the tip of his cock. "You're so beautiful." Dean whispers, voice rough but surprisingly not wanting for a damn thing. This was all about Roman and it was like his body knew that and for _once_ in his life, decided to listen.

Dean's rusty, he knows he is, but if the sounds Roman was making were any indicator he didn't mind much. And the way Roman arches under him should make him eager, make him hungry and ready, but all it does is make that _love love love_ ache in his chest bloom tenfold.

Reigns' fingers are in his hair, pulling timidly and that sweet, sweet deep fucking voice is singing Dean's praises and it's all so damn good that Dean wants to fucking cry. The little twinges of pain from Roman's grip, the way he can't seem to help what comes out of his mouth.

" _Oh God Dean, you're so much better than him, thank you, thank you so much Dean, Jesus Christ Dean–_ "

Dean may actually cry.

Roman gasps and his hands raise, tugging at Dean's chin. "A-Ambrose-!"

Dean smirks up at him and Roman gives the best noise he's heard out of him yet when Dean makes eye contact. His whole body shudders and then he's cumming, Dean pulling off and stroking him onto his tongue while never breaking his gaze. Roman's blush is back but then he smiles, he fucking _smiles_ and it looks amazing on him. Dean's missed his smiles so much.

"Welcome back, big guy. I knew you were still in there. Just needed someone to scrub the grit off you." Dean says, sitting up and opening his arms. Reigns laughs, pulling him into a kiss and then snuggling into his chest as his eyes close.

Dean stays awake for a while afterwards, and gets roused from his circular musings by a pair of bearded lips softly kissing his chest.

" _I love you too_." Roman sighs quietly, like he's half-asleep.

Dean can't help his grin. Maybe this affection stuff wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

 **AN:** So sorry it took me this long to get this posted over here, I hope you all enjoyed!


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